Capital of Nasty Electronic Magazine
Volume V, Issue 5, AD MM
Monday, April 24, 2000
ISSN 1482-0471
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"I was sitting in my cubical today, and I realized ever since I 
started working, every single day of my life has been worse than the 
day before it. So that means that every single day you see me, that's 
the worst day of my life."
-- Office Space.

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

When I was a kid I couldn't understand why anyone would want to shoot 
John Lennon.  But now I can.  My only regret, that it wasn't me.

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

1.  Editorial
2.  Rock is Dead
3.  God is in the Elevator...
4.  CoN at the Movies
5.  Motto
-------------------------------------------

This week's Golden Testicle award:

Move over Mahir, Mr. Gigolo is here.  Is he not hot?

http://www.geocities.com/lonely451_2000/me.html

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

1. Editorial
By Leandro Asnaghi-Nicastro

Well, in this wonderful Editorial I was going to talk about the fights 
between me and the squirrel that lives in my yard and gnaws wood at 
night in my attic.  But because I moved, and because when you do
something like move, you want to do it with the least amount of 
troubles and pains as possible, you become easily fragile and 
hysterical when life decides to stick its nose in your affairs.

This, of course, causes the traumatic reaction of not trying to get 
Muffy the squirrel out of your former attic, the next time you hear 
him at night gnawing on some wood, with a nut and making squirrel 
noises (where the squirrel looks at you with a "what the fuck?" look 
on his face) but you grab the shotgun and turn him into Purina Chow 
instead.


Wednesday, April 5th

Telling Bell that I was moving and that I wanted my phone to follow 
me seemed like a simple thing to do.  You fill out a form, you hand 
it to the smiling clerk that doesn't comprehend, much less speak one
word of English, and you go merrily on your way.

I was expecting a simple, painless process, since I already had about 
a zillion other things to worry about that day, among which my taxes.

Despite the fact I got my phone form to have it disconnect on the 5th 
of April in one place and reactivate on the 5th of the other place, by 
that night I still had no service.  So I called Bell.

"Well, it says here that the phone can't be activated until the 6th of 
April" squeals the friendly 310-Bell 'if it's broken, we may just fix 
it' clerk.
"Well, wouldn't it be possible," I ask as nice as possible "to 
activate the damn thing today, since that's when I asked?"
"But it says here that it can't be done until the 6th, sir".
"So, how am I suppose to make phone calls and stuff?"
"Are you calling from that line sir?"
"If my line was working, would I call you to have you make my phone 
work?"
"Sir, that kind of attitude is not appreciated, while I try to help 
you".

In the end, bureaucracy won, and the 6th it had to be.


Thursday, April 6th

So on the morning of the 6th, I pick up my phone and listen.  No dial-
tone.  Okay.  They probably have the time and seconds to which they 
have to activate the thing, so maybe after work I'll have a dial-tone.  
I can just picture the guy waiting, with a hand on the enter key ready 
to press it, and staring at the clock to get the precise second.

From work I try calling my old line.  It gives me the number to my new 
line.  I call the new line.  I get an answering machine, which I am 
assuming is mine at this point.  For a brief moment in my life I 
thought that was over and done with, and that I still loved Bell.

Sadly, when I got home, the phone had no dial-tone.  I switched 
phones, to no avail.
I call Bell once again and explain that despite the fact I asked for 
my line to be moved and that it was done late, it wasn't even done 
right.
"Are you calling from that line sir?"

I bet a lot of people call Bell from their broken phones in this day 
and age.
After singing the Happy Song and smiling, I ask the clerk at 310-Bell 
if they could make my phone work.  She says that someone will show up 
at my house at 6PM, Friday.


Friday, April 7th, 6 P.M.

Friday at 6PM, after rushing from work, I am waiting by the door, 
because, when you live in an apartment, your phone and your main-door 
are all hooked to the same circuit.  So, if your phone doesn't work, 
neither does the intercom.  It's 7 o'clock and the Bell guy doesn't 
show up.  My landlord, seeing me goes "Oh, the Bell guy came today at 
2PM and fixed your phone".  I thank him, run upstairs, pick up my 
phone and I still have no dial-tone.  For some reason I am not 
surprised.


Saturday, April 8th

The next morning I call Bell once again (no, not from my phone, in 
case you're wondering).
Somehow it's my fault that the guy came at 2PM instead of 6 as I was 
told.
This despite the fact that the other lady had given that specific 
time, because you know, some people have to work for a living.
So they schedule another appointment.  I ask what time: "He'll come 
between 9AM and 5PM".  Any fucking less precise?


Sunday, April 9th

At around 4, when I was about to leave, the Bell guy arrives.  He 
discovers that not only that the building has got the weirdest wiring 
of all (from the basement of building 1, to the third floor of 
building 2, then back to the second floor of building 2, which is 
where I live).  After determining that no wires were laid for my 
particular apartment (making us wonder, just what "disconnecting" 
someone meant), the guy, confused and desperate after 45 minutes of 
chasing cables around, takes out wire and makes his own connection 
from the box to the third floor, back to the second and into the wire 
that enters my apartment.

Yo and behold!  My phone line works!  I can hear the distinct and 
satisfying sound of the dial-tone in the back.  Life is good.  I can 
actually connect myself back to the Internet in the comfort of my 
messy new home, to work on my already belated issue of CoN.

Happy, I return to my former house to continue packing and boxing 
stuff to move over, while my girlfriend complains that I am the 
slowest mover that ever existed (it took me well over three weeks to 
move and I'm not finished yet).


Monday, April 10th:
My phone line is dead again.


	Ellen K. writes in regards to our last issue of CoN
	(what else? I mean, seriously, were you expecting her
	to write about the weather?  Let's get serious here).
 
	You know, this Jay guy has a good point about the
	spelling and basic grammar in that story. And some of
	the other stuff, too. I think your Angie has misjudged him. 

	I was never taught grammar in school (honest, Chicago
	public schools) but I can say with complete confidence
	that in story #3 of this issue, this is wrong: "I
	crouched behind it, and slowly drug it to a display on
	the other side of me, "  --ummm, ever hear of the
	word *dragged* 
	geez

	still love ya
	Ellen


And lastly, albeit everyone has probably forgotten about this whole 
thing (add me to the list), Luke de Sade replies in regards to the 
comments made about his article: 


	Hey, boys and girls. Seems that my "story" fucked some
	people up. I thought this zine was to have fun, not get
	all mad as hell and shit.

	Now, to answer some things:

	> Luke de Sade, despite his not liking girls, writes
	> back to Ange's praises:

	I DO like girls! I just don't like their fluids.

	And about this guy:

	> I'm sorry, but what the fuck was up with that de
	> Sade guy? I don't usually attack people, and in
	> general think that I'm a pretty easy going guy.
	> I root for the underdog, have empathy for the 
	> less fortunate, and pretty much believe you reap
	> what you sow......but how could you guys print
	> what this guy had to say? Perhaps I'm showing a
	> bit of my anal retentiveness, but this guy is a
	> moron. I got D's in High school English, and that
	> was over 20 years ago, but I still understand the
	> basics.
	>
	> Examples:
	>
	> "I'm one of those people that can either have sex
	> or don't have sex."
	>
	> "We were there up until 4 a.m. in the morning."
	>
	> "So off we went, drunk as hell, and (my two
	> friends who were with me) horny as dogs."
	>
	> "I tell you all these because what I'm about to
	> tell you guys will freak some people out."
	>
	> Those  is some of the least most worst ones.
	> I don't know, maybe I just don't understand exactly
	> what your policies are in regards to the things that
	> people submit to you, but this guy came off as a
	> sick little Narcissistic jerk moron, that can't
	> possibly have anything interesting to say. Let alone 
	> print. But maybe that was your point.

	Ok, Mr. Grammar, first of all, this ain't fucking
	school. If I wanted correct spelling and grammar,
	I'd go back to school. So drop it already. 
	Besides that, I'm from a fucking third world country!
	We're supposed to fuck up in English, aren't we?

	> Perhaps I can help Mr. de Sade figure out what he
	> can spend that 10 bucks on.
	>
	> 1.Psychiatric treatment.  His obvious fear of bodily
	> fluids is a dead giveaway that he is heading toward a
	> bad case of obsessive-compulsive disorder.

	Nah, that only happens to you "gringos" :)

	> 2.Analysis.  Love is good. Love of one's self is good.
	> This guy loves himself WAY too much.

	And don't you love yourself?

	> 3.A spellchecker

	Have one. Too bored to use it.

	> 4.Remedial English courses

	Third world country? Ring a bell?

	> 5.A personality

	Can I borrow yours?

	> 6.A gun. So he can shoot himself and spare us from
	> any more of his drivel.

	I have one, but am too stupid to use it.

	> 7.A gun  See # 6

	Again?

	> 8.A gun  Did I mention that I think he should kill
	> himself?

	Could you teach me how to do it? Maybe if I see you
	do it, it'll sink in.

	> 9.Suzy the love doll.   No more vaginal fluids!
	> Just his own gross, disgusting, sick, smelly,
	> slimy, semen.

	Hey, now THAT'S an idea!

	> 10.Some hand lotion.  See # 9

	Nah, I like it rough!

	Man, have fun, dammit! That's the whole point. If you
	were insulted by my article, I'm very sorry. Now, can
	you teach me how to use that gun?

	"Imperious, choleric, irascible, extreme in everything,
	with a dissolute imagination the like of which has never
	been seen, atheistic to the point of fanaticism, there
	you have me in a nutshell, and kill me again or take me
	as I am, for I shall not change."

                      --Donatien-Alphonse-Francois de Sade

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2. Rock is Dead
By John Iadipaolo

In a culture obsessed with bubble gum pop and gangsta rap rule, it's 
decidedly uncool to be labeled a 'rocker'.  Rock is what our parents 
listened to, so naturally the average teen wants the polar opposite.  
They want manufactured beauty kings (N'Sync) and queens (Spears) to 
croon about a messy breakup or a new crush.  They want tough, young 
black men to rap about the hardships of the streets (when the majority 
of them have never set foot inside Harlem).  They wouldn't be caught 
dead listening to The Police's 'Every Breath You Take', but Puffy's 
cheesy 'tribute' to the Notorious B.I.G., featuring the guitar part 
and most of the lyrics, sold quite well.

It's disappointing that rock doesn't get the attention that it 
deserves anymore, but it's certainly not a surprise.  Music has become 
another product to buy, use and throw away.  People aren't very 
selective about the music they listen to, as long as it's got a beat, 
a pretty video and they can grind to it in a club.  Plus, it's easy to 
listen to a new single, even if you don't really like it.  Hot singles 
generally have a shelf life of a month before they're deemed 'played 
out', and get forgotten in favor of something newer, hotter and 
louder.

When the topic of music comes up when I'm talking with friends, I'm 
always interested to hear what they say.  They never talk about the 
lyrics, emotions or intensity of their favorite artists- most of them 
don't really have favorite artists, and their 'favorite' song changes 
every couple of weeks.  I'm not criticizing my friends, but I think 
it's sad when an art is cheapened the way music has been over the past 
few decades.

A great rock song gives me a rush, but many people complain that it's 
depressing music, and I can see why they might think so. With it's 
hard edge and decidedly unattractive stars, rock doesn't fit into pop 
culture's mold of being constantly bigger, flashier, faster and 
dumber.  Many true rock songs aren't radio friendly (I don't consider 
bands like Serial Joe, No Doubt, Limp Bizkit, etc etc as real rock 
bands due to their obvious commercialism), and you sure as hell can't 
dance to it.  Still, to me good rock bands possesses certain qualities 
that artists in many other types of music lack: integrity, feeling, 
and a genuine love of their work

Regardless of me friends and my culture, I try to remain a faithful 
rock fan.  I'm a big fan of The Smashing Pumpkins, Metallica, Tool and 
NIN.  I was at the Slipknot concert last week (April 7th) at the 
Warehouse (in my hometown of Toronto), and I'm looking forward to the 
big NIN show at Maple Leaf Gardens at the end of the month.  Still, 
I'm not as much of a  'rocker' as I used to be.  When I'm driving 
around I usually listen to dance stations (although Toronto's rock 
stations are awful, and my tape deck is broken), but I find myself 
tapping my foot or humming to rap and dance songs now and again.  I 
certainly don't dress like a traditional 'rocker', if I ever did, and 
just last night my friends brought me to a club.  They say they're 
wearing me down, and-sometimes- I wonder if they're right.

---
John is a highschool student in Toronto.  If you were watching 
MuchMusic last Saturday, you might have seen him crowd surfing at a 
Slipknot concert.

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

3.  God is in the Elevator, and He's Mad Magnolia Didn't Win Best 
Picture
By Jason MacIsaac

Whenever I'm confronted on the streets by some blank-eyed twit who 
wants to tell me about his personal friend Jesus, I always counter 
with a line I believe I picked up from either a movie or a stand-up 
comedian:

"I talked to God this morning, and he didn't say anything about you."

I wish I could remember where I heard it from.  If anyone want to drop 
me a line at jason@scriba.org if you know where it originated from, I 
would be most grateful.  
If you've read my previous article The Gospel According to Some Guy I 
Met on the Bus, you'll already be familiar with my views on religion.  
I'm not against organized religion per say, but I am much more into 
personal spirituality.  I want to believe that there is something out 
there, but in my lifetime I am prepared to accept that I may never get 
more than occasional glimpses at it.  I already told you about one 
such glimpse.


This morning, I had another.
Today is Sunday, and that's usually the day I try to clean the 
apartment.  I am conscious that my place screams "BACHELOR!  BACHELOR 
ALERT!  CLEAR THE BRIDGE!  DIVE DIVE!"  and I'm trying to cure it of 
that.  I'd like to make the ol' homestead look like I live here, and 
not just Generic Slob #3.  I'm not prepared to wait for the next woman 
in my life to take over the decorating duties.

That leaves me with quite a lot to do, and a lot of money to spend.  I 
need new furniture.  I need to buy groceries en masse more often, 
instead of just picking up odds and ends as I come home from work 
everyday.  I need to routinely pick up those damn flyers that keep 
shoving through my mail slot, causing a mess and frightening the cat.  

Like many people, I don't exactly look forward to doing the laundry 
and tend to wait until the last set of useable socks/underwear is gone 
before I drag my ass downstairs.  It's amazing to think that all 
laundry used to be done by hand.  Now we have machines that do almost 
everything for us and we're still lazy about it.  Housewives in the 
1950s must be as tough as modern-day marines.  

I had to do lots of towels and bed linen to do too.  I was going to 
drag a stuffed laundry bag and a basket downstairs.  I do have a 
little shopping cart I could have used to bring the load downstairs, 
but when I bought it, disassembled, the hardware was incomplete.  I 
lost the receipt so I could
n't prove I'd bought it from the place where I did and get a 
replacement.  

From odds and ends in my toolbox (I am a MAN goddamnit.  I have a 
TOOLBOX.  With crumpled Canadian Tire money at the bottom of it yet.  
I think I'll go on the balcony, beat my chest, and howl over my 
domain) I managed to attach all but one wheel.  I needed a lock washer 
to hold the wheel in place.  Normally, the little black cap that comes 
with the cart has this to lock the wheel and place, and provide a 
smooth object to protect careless legs from scrapes.  Me, I would have 
been happy with just the correct size of lock washer and little bit of 
hockey tape at the edges.  Unfortunately, all my efforts to find the 
right size had been thwarted.

I had looked over lock washers just the day before.  I've been looking 
for months, mind you.  And today, as I hauled my overflowing load of 
socks downstairs, I kept thinking how much I'd love to use that cart 
right now.
I was in a pretty good mood.  The night before the Maple Leafs had one 
game two of their series against the Ottawa Senators.  I watched it, 
and it was a great game with some beautiful goals.  I'd just finished 
a book by Ann Rule, one of the few true crime authors worth reading.  
And I am well on my way to beating Thief 2: The Metal Age on Expert 
level.  Life is good.  So what if my laundry was heavy, and made no 
easier to carry by the fact that my basket is cracked along the 
handles (the fate of virtually every laundry basket).

I tossed my laundry in, and made my way to the elevator.  Here, in the 
elevator of sub-basement one, the least likeliest of places, I had my 
religious experience.

Let me caution you as I did before: this experience is utterly 
meaningless to anyone but me.  In fact, many of you will probably find 
this stupid, as you should.  But I'm telling you, once again, there 
was the touch.

On the floor of the elevator, was a cap from a shopping cart, one used 
to hold wheels in place.  I picked it up and took it up stairs.

It fit my cart perfectly.  Now, after months of goofing around with 
lock washers, I finally have a cart.  You are probably now saying, 
"There is a word for this, and it's 'coincidence.'"  I agree totally, 
but that doesn't change my point.  I am not saying that God put that 
cap there.  As far as divine intervention goes, finding a piece my 
cart needed ranks rather low next to raising Lazarus. The most mundane 
set of circumstances probably put that cap there.  


My point is, I was just wishing for something like that on a day it 
just happened to come into my life.  I live in a world where a vague 
wish can be granted by a coincidence.  

Isn't that fucking great?  
My first experience--seeing the newborn kitten, also happened due to 
an unusual set of circumstances.  I was doing three things that I was 
unlikely to have been doing that day.  In the midst of it all came 
this experience, totally unexpected.  Just a coincidence.  It really 
profoundly influenced 
the way I think.  Coincidences are profound.  

I'm not the only person who thinks this way, if I'm reading the 
climatic scene of the movie Magnolia right.  I won't describe the 
climax, but you probably wouldn't believe me if I told you anyway.  
It's easily the least predictable climax in motion picture 
history...yet it does make sense in its own way.

Magnolia is big on coincidence.  The opening sequence discusses cases 
of coincidence at length, including people whose lives are connected 
by it.  The movie then goes on to depict the lives of more people who 
are connected by coincidences.  A former kid quiz show champion, now 
an adult.  A young quiz show contest, trying to be the next big 
winner.  The host of said quiz show.  His estranged daughter.  A 
police officer who investigates a disturbance at her apartment and 
becomes infatuated with her.  A dying old man.  His gold digger wife. 
The old man's estranged son, who has some major issues with women 
(understatement).  
Aside from coincidence, the various parties are also related by 
feelings of loneliness and desperation.  Some have dark secrets that 
they are begging to be forgiven for, and fear that they won't be.  The 
movie charts their progress through their problems, while Amy Mann 
sings unsubtly "It's not going to stop until you wise up."  Indeed, 
watching the movie you can't help but feel that some of the problems 
the people face are easily solvable if they'd just start talking about 
how they feel.  You actually want to shake some sense into some of 
them.

Then, just when it looks like everyone involved is going to totally 
self-destruct, the climax occurs, and the characters in the movie are 
no less stunned and confused than the audience.  

What does it mean?  Allow me to offer this interpretation.  
While these people are busy screwing up their lives, sinking deeper 
and deeper into despair, this thing happens.  It defies all rational 
explanation.  It does suggest a divine one though.  Someone saying 
"I'm watching."  Perhaps it's a friendly touch suggesting to these 
emotional road accidents that "Hey, I'm here, and I care."  It might 
even be a warning.  "Listen you idiots: sort this out now.  Don't make 
me come down there."

I believe I have experienced the friendly touch, and maybe even the 
warning.  There was one summer where myself and a group of three of 
friends, with too much time and sugar on our hands, did everything we 
could possibly think of to try to get ourselves killed.  This resulted 
in an incident that I have always wondered might have been a graphic 
demonstration of what could happen if we didn't smarten up.  I may 
discuss this incident at another time, but right now, I'm too 
embarrassed. 

As I said, I am prepared to live with the fact that if there is 
something divine, I may never get more than a momentarily glimpse at 
them.  But I am grateful for what I have been shown.  I certainly 
wouldn't object to another show, though, if someone or something were 
willing.

In the meanwhile, Magnolia will be out on DVD soon enough.  I will 
definitely buy a copy.

---
Jason MacIsaac is Charles Hay Fort's drinking buddy.

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

4.  CoN at the Movies
Pseudo Reviews by Jeff Wright

	Hey there pardners!  Let's get right to it.

BREAKING THE WAVES
	I can't say enough good things about this film.  It's simply one 
of the greatest films I've ever seen.  Lars von Trier kicks royal 
fucking ass!!!!!!  I don't know what to say.  This film is pure 
fucking brilliance!!!  Emily Watson's performance is probably the best 
acting performance ever.  
Everytime I tell someone the basic premise of the film, I get 
this sarcastic reaction of "Uh huh.  That sounds like a great movie 
Jeff.", and I go nuts.  So I'm not going to tell you what it's about.  
Just see it.  If you don't like it, fuck you!!!!!!  You suck!!!!  
	If you've got a LD player, it's available as a Criterion 
Collection disc.  You may still be able to find it somewhere.  If 
you've got a DVD player, it's available as part of a 3 pack released 
by Artisan.  It sort of pissed me off that I had to buy two other 
movies that I've never seen in order to get a copy, but it was well 
worth it.  Finally, there's a widescreen VHS version.  Watch the pan & 
scan VHS version as a last resort.  I rented it to see if I could 
recommend people renting it, and I can't.  It looks terrible.  The 
film has a very precise style and it's not to be fucked with.

OFFICE SPACE	
	This is a great comedy from Mike Judge (the creator of Beavis & 
Butthead, and King Of The Hill) on the hell that is shitty jobs.  The 
main cast is mostly unknowns, or little knowns (save Jennifer Aniston) 
and they all put in fantastic performances.  
	The basic premise is three guys work at a computer company.  
Jobs they don't like much.  The company is downsizing, and the guys 
decide to fuck the company.  
	The advertising on the flick was really bad, so very few people 
saw it.  I only rented it last week.  Here's hoping that it finds its 
audience on video because it's a really good movie, with some great 
fucking scenes.  There are scenes in the flick that I laughed at as 
hard as most of South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut.
	If you're still not convinced to see it, most of the music is 
gansta rap.  And if a movie about computer jockeys that uses gangsta 
rap ain't funny to you, I don't know what is.

EELS - DAISIES OF THE GALAXY
	I know it's not a movie, but this CD rocks ass!  Just wanted to 
sneak this in here.

THE LORD OF THE RINGS PREVIEW INTERNET CLIP
	Damn!  Isn't it mean to release footage this good, this far 
ahead of the release of the first movie?  On top of that, the Peter 
Jackson fan part of my is fucking weeping for a new flick.  

THREE KINGS
	I liked this flick when I saw it in theatres, but I was 
disappointed.  Ya see, I love Flirting With Disaster, David O. 
Russel's previous film.  It's one of my favourite comedies, and I went 
into Three Kings expecting the wrong thing.  
	I got the DVD today, and re-watched it.  It's a really good 
movie and if you haven't seen it, you should rent it.  If you've got a 
DVD player, the disc is packed with extras.  The best being Russel's 
15 minute video diary about all the shit that comes before making a 
movie, and a bit of what comes after.  Another great extra (though it 
may just be that I'm a huge Spike Jonze fan), is a 2 minute long piece 
directed by Jonze and starring Ice Cube on the fine art of acting.  
Also included are 2 commentary tracks, deleted scenes, a making of 
documentary, and more.  Definitely worth picking up.

THAT'S ALL FOR NOW

---
Mostly, Jeff, comes out at night.  Mostly.

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

5.  My New Motto
by EricR

I have a new motto in life. Let me explain it too you.

I work in the "Internet Industry", which some may imagine as being a 
safe-haven for bold, counter-culture types, or at least a place for a 
bunch of dorks to try pretend they're bold, counter-culture types, but 
lo, it sadly isn't so. No the people who run the internet industry may 
think they're counter-culture types just because they don't wear a tie 
and know a little bit about Unix or something, (and they do think 
this), but they're not. By and large, they're business people, the 
same breed of business people you'd find at any brokerage firm, bank, 
real estate sales office or money lender's. They read the Wall Street 
Journal, curse NAFTA and Alan Greenspan, and discuss the stock market 
in their free time.

This kind of thing becomes clear, for instance, when I mention to 
someone at work that I'm taking a creative writing course. He asks me 
if it's to help my business writing. I explain to him, no, it has 
nothing to do with business writing, and, in a different setting, 
might have explained to him that someone would have to hold a gun to 
my head to get me to write a single line of ad copy, but he just says 
"Well, hey, it'll help your business writing too."

This is not the first time something like this has happened too me. 
Once I tried to explain to a former boss why I wanted a part-time job 
so that I'd have more time to myself. He looked at me blankly, "You 
get paid by the hour," he said, "what, you don't want money?"

I swear this is exactly what he said, "What, you don't want money?" 
It's like a mantra for these people or something. If it doesn't relate 
to money, it might as well not exist, and these soulless people end up 
like the characters in the movie Boiler Room, tons of money, and no 
clue how to spend it. Because these people have nothing to be 
passionate about except material wealth.

One more example, just to reinforce the point. I was at a headhunter's 
office once and he asks me "What this YanktheChain.com thing on your 
resume?"
"Well," I explain, "it's a web magazine I publish and write for."
"So it's a startup?"

I'm just imagining the gears working in this guy's mind, like some 
kind of robot: "Category: Web Magazine; Type: website; Moneymaking? 
Processing.. category found, STARTUP. Correct output: 'So it's a 
startup?'"

Just to clarify, here's what "startup" means in business talk: a 
startup is a new business venture in which someone gets an idea that a 
hundred other people already have had, and plans to work 16 hours a 
day on it for three years until it gets profitable enough that he can 
sell it to a large corporation for a lot of money. Usually they then 
have nothing to do with all their money, so they take it and make 
another startup.

Passionless. Soulless. Heartless.

Frankly it sends shivers up my spine just thinking about it, thinking 
about these people willing to throw away years and years of their 
lives for nothing but economic gains, arbitrary numbers that mean 
nothing past a certain point anyway. I mean, does anyone really need a 
hundred million dollars? For fuck's sake, what are these people doing 
with themselves?

Which brings me to my shiny new motto for living, my counter-mantra, 
if you will. It is this:

"Never trust anyone who spends their free time talking about the stock 
market."

"But Eric," you might say, "surely there's nothing wrong with 
investing a conservative index fund over a long period of time to plan 
for your retirement, along with a reasonable 401k plan."

Other then the evil of having to know terms like "conservative index 
fund" and "401k", I suppose there's nothing really wrong with saving 
money so you won't have to worry about starving later on in life. This 
is not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about people who talk about 
the stock market for kicks, who debate fine points of junk bonds and 
treat their 100 shares of Sisco like something to brag about.

"But Eric," you might also say, "the stock market is a fascinating 
numerical representation of our economic system. By studying the Dow 
Jones we can grow to understand patterns of mass behavior and the 
underlying mechanics of capitalistic society."

Okay, perhaps as a form of scholarly research the stock market might 
be worth talking about. And Newt Gingrich should be elected president. 
And everyone should watch Titanic at least three times a day while 
shoving razor blades under their toe nails.

Really, the people who say this kind of horseshit are simply trying to 
justify their own greed and the emptiness of their pathetic lives 
which need to be filled up with over-blown philosophical statements 
about an already over-blown way for rich people to stay rich without 
adding anything to society.

Let me tell you about what the stock market really is, and saying this 
is the only truly justifiable excuse to mention the stock market at 
all.

The stock market is a means for parasites. Stock brokers, investment 
firms, Mutual Funds, people who spend their livelihoods pouring money 
in and out of the market do absolutely nothing for society except move 
money around; they don't create anything, they don't try to make the 
world a better place, except in the most abstract examples of things 
like Al Gore claiming that he created the internet because he gave 
money to its development.

And we, as a society, don't need these people. The people themselves 
might try to convince us that we do, that we cannot have innovation 
without a system of financial backing, but that's horseshit. There is 
no excuse for a system that allows non-productive people to be among 
the richest. It's a travesty, and, taking a cue from Douglas Adams, we 
should pile all the middle men we can find in a big rocket ship and 
shoot them as far away from us as technologically possible.

Until we do, don't trust anyone who spends their free time talking 
about the stock market.

---
EricR is the editor and programmer of YanktheChain.com, a web magazine 
that believes in improving the world through hate. It will IPO in 
November.

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