Capital of Nasty Electronic Magazine
Volume VI, Issue 1, AD MMI
Monday, June 4, 2001
ISSN 1482-0471
-------------------------------------------

"Sure, I said, I might go to prison. They could hang me and yank my 
nuts off and drag me through the streets and flay my skin and burn 
me with lye, but the Pressman Hotel would always be known as the 
hotel where the richest people in the world ate pee.
Tyler's words coming out of my mouth.
And I used to be such a nice person."

-------------------------------------------

"the guy, I say is probably at home every night with a little 
rattail file, filing a cross into the tip of every one of his 
rounds. This way, when he shows up to work one morning and pumps a 
round into his nagging, ineffectual, petty, whining, butt-sucking, 
candy-ass boss, that one round will split along the filed grooves 
and spread open the way a dumdum bullet flowers inside you to blow a 
bushel load of your stinking guts out through your spine. Picture 
your gut chakra opening in a slow-motion explosion of sausage-casing 
small intestine."

-------------------------------------------

1.  Editorial
2.  Rolo:1:1
3.  Worked in a Photomat
4.  CoN Goes to the Movies
5.  3 Poems
-------------------------------------------

This week's Golden Testicle award:

http://meepzorp.com/mslzb/

Microsoft Recliner

-------------------------------------------

1. Editorial
By Leandro Asnaghi-Nicastro

I was rather eager to leave Los Angeles, despite the fact that my 
flight wasn't confirmed yet for whatever reasons Delta had decided. 
Waiting all by myself in the Milner Hotel was far from what I had in 
mind, so I left with everyone else in the hopes of catching an 
earlier flight.

I was in Los Angeles to attend the dreadful event called E3.  The 
ever famous Electronic Entertainment Expo.  This is the kind of 
place where you'll find every possible imaginable version of 
Pokemon.  Or where, if you just happen to ask at the Lucasarts booth 
"What do mean this game takes place ten thousand years before 
Episode 1?" you'll get the dirtiest looks.  Fortunately, some freak 
volunteered to up to date me with the last fifty thousands years of 
Star Wars universe history.

After waving bye to the rest of the crew I work with, I worked my 
way through airport to the Delta counter, where I was given boarding 
passes for a flight at 12:05 PM local time. Unfortunately, that 
flight was full. Ironically, so was the 1:05 PM one. And the 3:35 PM 
one. And the one for 5:05 PM.

Not much choice but to wait for the flight at 12:05 AM.

I'd like to thank the incredibly friendly Delta staff for talking to 
me as if I had some kind of mental deficiency. Must've been my 
accent. Never in my life have I been talked to as if I was a 
complete idiot. Maybe it was because I started my sentences with 
"excuse me" and whenever I got some information, I'd end them with 
"thank you."

Thirteen hours do not go by fast at an airport, let me tell you. To 
entertain myself I started walking back and forth between the 
security gates to see what they would find in my possession.

The first time I walked through, nothing. The second time, the 
camera set off the metal detector. The third time, it was my change. 
The fourth time, nothing. The fifth time, they all panicked as they 
found a knife in my bag.

Since I was already carrying two knives on me, I was trying to 
figure out what exactly was in the bag, and it turned out to be an 
old knife for cutting boxes in a grocery store. Memories of my old 
job. They literally freaked at the 1/4 inch blade, so I just gave up 
the knife. I have enough sitting at home, anyway.

However, it's reassuring to see how only once I was asked to turn on 
my laptop, and all other times, I went through with much longer 
blades than the one they found in my bag. I really felt good about 
Los Angeles' airport security.

I decided to sit in the more remote corner that the area by the gate 
offered, so that I could possibly be left alone and catch on some 
sleep.  Fortunately, thanks to the laxed security, just about 
everyone can get inside the airport.  And so first it was the usual 
guy that needed 18 dollars and 22 cents to buy an aeroplane ticket.  
Then the Hare, Hare Krishna guys.  Then, would I like to donate 
money for people that have AIDS.  The tiny mute and deaf midget 
selling 5 dollar stickers for Pokemon.  I just kept answering in 
French.  Except to the midget.

At one point, while I was waiting, three women sitting behind me 
started to talk about a three-day conference on sinning they had 
attended.  Not the kind of sinning you and I have in mind, let me 
remind you.  One even went on to ramble about her new love, some guy 
that may have killed his previous wife, but nobody is sure, since 
God knows, and he seemed like a very religious man. Since religion 
and I are like oil and vinegar, I grabbed my stuff to find a better 
place to sit, when I noticed what flight they were boarding. Flight 
448.  Salt Lake City, Utah.

When the 13 hours were up I finally boarded my plane: Air Jamaica 
flight 444 which stopped in Atlanta (I don't know why, nor do I 
care). From there it was another long wait for my flight back to 
Toronto, mostly because they had no idea where the plane was.

How do you lose a plane? I mean, it's not like it's something that 
you can just leave in a parking lot and not remember where you 
parked. Anyway, finally they got us on MD-88 that was as spacious as 
my grandmother's Toyota, and I arrived in Toronto at around 4 PM, 
which was cold and rainy. You cannot possibly understand how happy I 
was that it was cold and rainy.  Fresh air.  Wetness all around me. 
I was supposed to go to work on Monday despite the fact that it was 
a holiday, but I parked my aching body in my bed and slept a sleep 
with no dreams.

Oh, and Friday, albeit I am not supposed to know, I am getting laid 
off.  Excuse me while I look for a job.

-------------------------------------------

2.  Rolo:1:1
By Rolo

I love my job.  Well let me rephrase that.  Um... I like my job.  

Okay fine...  I don't mind my job.  What I admire most about it, is 
that my job itself and the environment that I work in, is truly 
satirical.  No, It's almost to the point in which I feel as though 
I'm in a Dilbert cartoon.   As I reflect back on a conversation I 
had with Leandro, I never use to understand Dilbert cartoons, I 
sometimes found them funny.
 
But now Dilbert simply isn't funny.  Simply because its true.  Films 
like Fight Club and Office Space were hilarious and filled me with a 
sense of happiness.  Dreams that I never would have to endure the 
crap that happened in those movies.  Now I look back in bitter 
horror.  The horror of truth.   (Cue Heart of Darkness).

Let me explain.  I work for a rather large and well endowed 
architectural firm.   My official title is Office Services Clerk.  
In layman terms I am quite proverbially known as the "Office Bitch."   
If you have a pile of dirt you need moved, I move it.  If it needs 
to be moved back to the original spot, I move it.

I photocopy, fax, and do anything accept bend over and grab my 
ankles.  At least, in the literal sense.  In the proverbial sense, 
it is a whole other story.   And, like all major corporations, my 
work is plagued with the bureaucratic idiocy known as Corporate Red 
tape.  Bullshit, if you will.

My job "specification" is that I do everything menial in the office. 
The true horror of my job lies in the fact that I can draw direct 
parallels from the movies and cartoons of corporate satire.    Let 
me introduce our cast of characters.

We have the old bitch, whom I can only describe to you as the Royal 
Ontario Museum dinosaur, wrapped in ceran wrap, and Ronald McDonald 
blonde hair.  A truly scary old hag.   She is the old one who is too 
old to work but knows to many of the companies secrets (thanks to 
the fact that she just can't mind her own business) and hence can 
never be fired. She still uses software programs created in 1985.

Then we have the chauvinistic co-worker bastard, who can pretty much 
say anything and get away with it.   Suffice to say he is the nicest 
bastard, if there ever was one.

We have the sub-boss who will make sure you hear every reprimand at 
least three times, this includes through fax, e-mail and memo.  
She's to busy talking and saying yes to everyone to wonder if she 
has a brain.   The best part is she's equipped with the false memory 
function v1.1, which allows her to reprimand you for forgetting 
directives she never initially told you.

The coolest addition is the co-worker that farts none stop.  
Thankfully his office is fully enclosed.   Ah but that's okay.  Sure 
he's smelly, but he's an okay guy.  

Ah yes and we can't forget the brain dead Office Receptionist.  
Raised in a German laboratory by under funded scientists, she has no 
multitasking capabilities and often talks to herself.  She has no 
manners, and cannot simply give you a direct answer.  Much of the 
time I find it best to ignore her after five seconds of 
conversation.  I can walk away and she will still be rambling to my 
back at twenty paces.  Ah, if only I owned a polished duelling 
pistol.  It wouldn't be so hard to hit that fat head of hers.  It 
wouldn't be so bad if she didn't talk to me then cut me off with a 
"tzzz" and raised index finger as soon as something else came up.   
If you listen closely I think that "tzz" is the single free floating 
neuron in her head firing.

Work makes the saying "too many chiefs and not enough Indians" come 
to a whole new level of clarity to me.  Unfortunately, that hapless 
Indian is me and my co-worker.   They won't even let us play with 
axes or bows either.
  
Which brings me to my sub-issue. Why old people should be forced to 
stop working after a certain age.  Why the fuck are old people 
allowed to work?  It's almost as bad as letting them drive!  Its 
fine if you're competent and can prove it.

But I think they should institute the OFCP test.  The Old Fucking 
Competent Person Test proves that without a doubt that you can still 
contribute to the company and society as a whole.  If at any point 
should the test detect that the testee is a old crotchy 
bitch/bastard who can't get with the times and is therefore useless, 
they are automatically given the smackdown.
   
But then again, in some sick sadistic way I think I can say I enjoy 
work.  At least I can say its fun to be in a surreal comic strip.  
Dilbert you don't know the half of it.  At very least the pay is 
enjoyable and some co-workers are a blast.  It helps to be 
eccentric, it numbs the pain.   You could say that at least I'm a 
modestly paid bitch.  I say again, I like my job, how else would I 
have managed to think of this drivel while at work?

How to look busy at work: (And how to (more than likely), not get 
caught)

1) Look Busy: Always have multiple windows open on your desktop, if 
you don't have a computer make sure your desk or work space has 
several important looking documents or schematics laid out in a 
disorderly fashion.  This is a fine art as you want it look like 
you're looking through many things and cross referencing, not just 
making a mess.  If you are in the service industry either start 
cleaning, or make an important phone call, so much so that you're 
distracted and cannot acknowledge the presence of your supervisor.

2) Reading Material: Flip through an office book several times at 
high speed to make it look like your trying to find something, DO 
not look at the index, (Even though you know you can easily find it) 
Only resort to looking at the Index when you are under observation.

3) Minimize & Camouflage: Always have the windows your not suppose 
to have open (ie.  Web Browser with the latest PS2 game reviews, or 
latest issue of CoN) extremely minimized.  So much so that they are 
small and hard to read, for people looking over your shoulder if 
they are smaller they are less noticeable when closed.  It also 
helps to make sure your desktop is of bland neutral colours, and 
have the font colour similar to the background.  In addition turn 
down your monitor to the right height and make sure the brightness 
is turned low.   It makes things less appealing to passers by, and 
will give you precious seconds to CALMLY close the windows you 
shouldn't have open.

4) Don't Panic: When your supervisor walks by, or comes to ask you 
something DO NOT quickly hide what you are doing or close the window 
on your browser.  This draws attention.  Like in nature, prey avoid 
detection by predators if they remain still and calm.  It helps to 
have a repertoire with your boss or know the right discussion topics 
with them, hence you can draw their attention away from your monitor 
to you by asking them how THEY are.  Once they start talking about 
themselves they will more than likely keep focused on you and not to 
what is your screen. 

5) Smokescreen: Always make sure that the superfluous window is the 
maximized on your desktop.  This "smoke screen" will, at first 
glance draw your supervisors attention to it and perhaps give you 
time to close the other windows.
Its best to have some office documents, or previous projects up.  Be 
creative.  

6) Put everything on computer: You can always say that it will 
increase file sharing and productivity when you put things on 
computer.  Not only that it's also a tremendous time waster.  Such 
things as Inventory, Contacts, or even Photocopier reading would be 
great on Word Processor or a Spreadsheet.  

7) Learn: What?!  You don't know how to use those programs on your 
computer?  Well since you have time to kill might as well learn it!  
Just remember to save telling your boss that you have learned a new 
program.  It makes you look better when review time comes, and you 
can always state that you're improving your value to the company by 
learning more programs.  Nothing beats dicking around on the 
computer.  If all else fails that new spreadsheet 
"MyDogsMeasurements.xls" serves as a perfect smoke screen for you 
passing boss.  Plus it shows them you have initiative and want to 
make yourself more useful.  Mention this only as a last resort.

---
Rolo is a jack of all trade, living in the Cultural mecca known as 
Canada.   Considered by many to be a natural fixer and flirt, he is 
in touch with his 49% female side.  Rolo always loves to stroke and 
talk about his pussy.

-------------------------------------------

3.  Worked in a Photomat
By Rev.Sean C. Rothstein-Jacobson

The most distinct memory I have of that Photomat was that it was 
there I realized I had a scent that was distinctly my own.  The 
place was so damn tiny that I'd fill it with this strange mix of 
cigarettes, coffee and me within seconds.  I was 17 or so and spent 
my days teaching myself harmonica and writing. Self-digestion in a 
very small box, stewing in my own scent, windows everywhere. Funny.  
It was the first time I was paid to be creative.

My boss, Anita, was an overweight, badly complexed, almost middle 
aged woman who was kind and good natured.  She had a demeanour 
though that spoke of a dissatisfaction with life that was complete 
but repressed. When she wasn't smiling she looked tortured.  Her 
husband Matt, oddly, was psychotically jealous and possessive of 
her. He'd do things like call up on various people's shifts to see 
if she was there. He'd drop by on his lunch hour to sit in the 
parking lot and spy on her.  Now, I'm not meaning any disrespect by 
this, but man you're woman weighs 260 and has a face full of acne- 
CALM DOWN!

It made my stomach CHURN with pity.  When Anita would talk about it 
she would either laugh or scowl.  Made my stomach churn with pity.

 One day I get this call from him, goes like this:

"Fotomat, this is Sean how can I help you?"
"YOUMOTHERFUCKINGPIECEOFSHIT! IM GONNA FUCKIN KILL YOU!"
"What?"
"I know you've been fucking her you bastard- I found the note you 
wrote her in the trash!"
"I have no idea-"
"DON'T  try to fuckin' lie to me!!"
"Uh- WHO the FUCK are you?!"
"LIKE YOU DON'T KNOW!  It's MATT, YOUR GIRLFRIEND'S HUSBAND!!"
"WHOA MAN!  I don't know what the hell you found, but I sure as hell 
didn't-"
"IT'S TOO LATE FOR THAT SHIT MAN!  I'm coming over there right now 
and I'M GONNA FUCKIN KILL YOU!! DO YOU HEAR ME?!?  I am gonna 
fucking KILL YOU!"
[click]

I hold the phone in my hand for like 20 seconds with one long "What 
the fuck?" resounding through my skull.  I hang up and call the 
police who say that they'll keep a car in the area.  MmmHmm, thanks.  
Next I call my regional manager and that goes like so:

"Hello this is Debbie." gravely semi-masculine voice.
"Hi Debbie, this is Sean from 209."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, I just got a death threat from Anita's husband and I'm gonna 
close up shop and get out of here."
"...Close-up, huh? ...Did he sound serious?"
"Yes Debbie, he sounded serious." I mean, really, I suppose it could 
have been one of those light-hearted death-threats that one might 
get from a manager's spouse.
"Did you call the police?"
"Before I called you."
"What did they say?" I swear, there is this pestery tone in her 
voice that's like a crow's caw and it gets under my skin.
"THEY said they'd keep a car in the area, which doesn't make me feel 
either protected or served."
"Well, that should be enough.  Besides, it's only 11, if you close 
now it'll be a whole day of lost revenue."
"What?"
"Could you at least stay open until after the lunch hour?"
"Uhh sure..." I was stunned.
"Okay good, call me if anything happens, okay?"
"O...kay...."
"Bye"
"B-"
[click]

Funny. Right there I cemented my hatred of people who choose the 
corporate path. One long "What the fuck?" rang through me.  I felt 
more offence at her than the guy who wanted to kill me.  Funny.

Anyway, I sat there and decided that I'd write a will out in my 
journal and if he got there before it was done, well, then that was 
just meant to happen.  I finished the will, locked up shop and left.

About a week later a restraining order was put down on him in regard 
to Anita and I, damning in his eyes I'm sure.  Needless to say, they 
were getting a divorce.  I never saw Matt after that but I did run 
into Anita about 6 years later in a bar.

She'd become svelt and strangely beautiful, her face had cleared up 
and she smiled honestly.  There were like three guys viewing for her 
attention. Odd. I suppose, in the end, the only one who really lost 
out was Matt.  My stomach churns in pity still.

---
REVSCRJ is a writer/musician living in Monterey, California.  
Constantly on the verge of homelessness, he hopes that you enjoy his 
work or else his life has been in vain.  Contact REVSCRJ at 
revscrj@cloudfactory.org to lodge complaints, notify of lawsuits, or 
receive spiritual advice.

-------------------------------------------

4. CoN Goes to the Movies 
by Jeff Wright

	Howdy.  I'm sure my CoNtribution to this issue will make many 
people, happy little girls and boys.  I'm very much not in the mood 
to write, so I shall be brief.

MOVIE #1:

THE BLADE (dir. Tsui Hark)
I got this on LD via HK, last week, and hot damn does it kick ass!  
To sum it up quickly, it's a mean little fucking one armed swordsman 
movie.  There's more going on in it, but I don't feel like going 
into it.  Just see it.  It's a great fucking movie!

MOVIE #2:

LAWRENCE OF ARABIA (dir. David Lean)
I saw this for the first time today, and really liked it.  Peter 
O'Toole kicks ass!  I'm sure I'm the last person on Earth to have 
seen it, so I shan't write any more about it.  

MOVIE #3:

BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA (dir. John Carpenter)
Now available on DVD, in a sweet special edition.  Run out and get 
it!!!  If you don't like this movie, there's something wrong with 
you.  

MOVIE #4:

RUNNING OUT OF TIME (dir. Johnny To)
A cool HK drama/action flic about a hostage negotiator and a 
criminal with a few days left to live.  Under the assured direction 
of To, and with fine performances from both the leads, the movie 
rises above what it probably would have been had it been made by 
someone else.  Not that I want him to go to Hollywood have to make 
shit like Tsui Hark did (DOUBLE TEAM, KNOCK OFF), but when is To 
gonna be given the chance to make a big Hollywood film?

MOVIE #5:

A BETTER TOMORROW II (dir. John Woo)
In my opinion, this is one of those cases of "the sequel is better 
than its original".  The original A BETTER TOMORROW didn't do much 
for me, but this one is a joy.  It's filled with great action, and 
has a scene involving Chow Yun Fat and rice, which should be placed 
amongst the funniest moments in cinema history.

MOVIE #6

ATTACK THE GAS STATION (dir. Kim Sang-Jin)
This is a cool little Korean comedy, about a gang of youths who in 
an attempt to rob a gas station, decide to stick around for the 
night, and hold it hostage.  Not a great film, but certainly 
entertaining.  I wouldn't be surprised to see a Hollywood remake of 
this within the next few years.

MOVIE #7:

THE BEAVER TRILOGY (dir. Trent Harris)
This is an interesting little independent film, that if you get a 
chance to see, you should.  It's a collection of 3 short films about 
an energetic young man, who impersonates Olivia Newton John at a 
school talent show.  The first short (the best of the bunch), is 
documentary.  The second, with Sean Penn in the lead role.  The 
third, with Crispin Glover.

MOVIE #8:

THE ORIGINAL KINGS OF COMEDY (dir. Spike Lee)
I didn't get it I guess.  Bernie Mac is one funny motherfucker 
though.  I'd recommend a rental of it, just to see his routine (he's 
the last comedian, so ready the FFWD button).

MOVIE #9:

PEARL HARBOUR (dir. Michael Bay)
Save your money.  I enjoyed about 5 minutes of its 3 hour runtime.

That's it for this issue.  

Later.

---
Jeff is anxiously awaiting next week's DVD release of BIBLEMAN.  
He's a little worried that if he dies without having seen it, he may 
go to Hell.

-------------------------------------------

5. 3 Poems 
by Johnny Gomez

"Poopz"

why iz it that i'z iz alwayz pooin?  
i just cant stop  
poo poo poo poo
pooin pooin pooin

"pimpin and hoin"

yer momma'z a ho
yer daddy'z a pimp
2 bad you havta be like momz
better luck in yer next life i gess

"poetry"

itz the only thingz i doo
well that and takin pooz

---
Johnny Gomez is beyond compare, so stop combing your hair.

-------------------------------------------

CoN would not be possible without the great help of Scriba Org.

CoN: "The best fresh-roasted peanuts since 1907"

Capital of Nasty Electronic Magazine    "media you can abuse"
In memory of Father Ross "Padre" Legere
Published every second Monday (or when we get around it)
Disclaimer: unintentionally offensive
Comments, queries and submissions are welcome

http://www.capnasty.org  ISSN 1482-0471

A bi-weekly electronic journal. Subscriptions available at no cost
electronically.


Available on Usenet newsgroups alt.zines and alt.ezines. This 
mailing is sent exclusively to those poor souls who chose to subscribe
to the Capital of Nasty mailing list.

Spread the word! If you have friends who would like to receive CoN,
ask them to send email to join@capnasty.org. If you'd like to unsubscribe 
because such email aggravates your tolerance for Gomez and his poems, 
simply send an empty message to leave@capnasty.org.

Text issues of CoN archived exclusively by Disobey www.disobey.com

Brought to you by C.C.C.P. (Collective Communist Computing Proletariat)
Leandro Asnaghi-Nicastro          Colin Barrett
<leandro@capnasty.org>            <tyrannis@capnasty.org>


ZimID 708EC8D1  1994/09/14 EC B0 97 59 1D FE 7C 32  7E 04 2C 66 47 
41 FB 7D
