Capital of Nasty Electronic Magazine
Issue III, Volume I, Year MCMXCVI AD
Monday , July 1st, 1996
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1. POEM: My Heart as punica granatum by Salad37
2. HATE: Dismissed in a sentence.
3. LOVE: Jocks VS Nerds.
4. CON : The Third Issue.

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My Heart as punica granatum


The wax drips down as my sleep dies
and still I wish to deceive me
with a hopeful frown and luke warm lies
and no world left perceiving

A jump a moth makes into my flame
my wick still glows so strongly
with futures I'd like to hold again
but leave with constant longing

Still glowing now I feel myself
the heat that burns was once for love
and before turning away from the horror there
I burned like an entrapped dove

So take my hand, sweet Euredice
and walk me down your bleach dried shores
Let my fate be immortalized
for always just as yours

And now I take my ever dream
and stash it away with tomorrow
I quickly lock and hide the key
from always todays sorrows


Thank you for your time Homer,
       Suzanne

(salad@ridgecrest.ca.us)


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                 -> HATE <-

          We HATE ravers, they
          are the scum of the
          earth, they are robots,
          fashion victims with
          bad clothes, bad
          haircuts and seriously
          sub standard drugs. We
          HATE skaters,  get a
          job, quit clogging the
          streets. We HATE white
          boy trip hop and the
          junglist massive, too
          many hard beats don't
          make you hard. We HATE
          Goths, goth is dead,
          they can't dance
          because they are too
          worried about breaking
          into a sweat and having
          their make up run. We
          HATE punks, punk is
          also dead, the symbols
          are meaningless in the 90s.
          We HATE the easy
          cocktail listening fad,
          elevators and
          supermarkets was bad
          enough, please keep it
          out of the club scene.
          We HATE post punks,
          wasn't punk bad enough?
          We HATE indie kids:
          face it, M(orr)isery is
          a sad bastard, Robot
          Smith is a prick and
          Blur or Oasis are just
          bad sixties rip off
          merchants who can't
          sing.  We HATE
          shoegazers because they
          are 'sensitive' pseudo
          intellectual gits who
          can't dance either and
          wear stripes and spots
          together, gross. We
          HATE dub, no really, we
          hate dub. We especially
          HATE the nouveux
          'sensitive' pseudo
          intellectual post indie
          ambient bleepsters.
          Christ, couldn't they
          chill out at home,
          instead of at some
          fucking techno club
          sitting in the back
          room trainspotting
          about the bloody
          catalogue number of
          some obscure track that
          some unknown artist
          nocked up in their
          bedroom and released
          five copies of
          (including the one they
          gave to their mum). "We
          HATE the comeback of
          DISCO and the 70's",
          flares were just a bad
          joke weren't they? Or
          did I miss something?
          We HATE industrial kids
          and cyber punks,
          putting NIN on the back
          of your leather jacket
          does not make you cool,
          and face it, it's just
          goth these days anyway.
          We HATE  the new "new
          romantics", fuck didn't
          we ditch that shit in
          1983? Do we really need
          to retrofit ourselves?
          We HATE the perv approxima,
          with their corsets,
          chokers & collars, quit
          pretending, you work in
          a bank.  We HATE people
          who won't admit they
          are going bald. We HATE
          Metallers,  especially
          fluffy metallers: perms
          are for poodles, open
          shirts are  for Burt
          Reynolds and head
          banging/air guitar is
          for posing gits who
          can't play.  We HATE
          crusties: the new age
          will not be hastened by
          wandering the streets
          with backpacks, dogs on
          string, dreads and
          sitting on your arse
          listening to the
          Levellers or NMA
          smoking far too much
          dope.  We HATE rap
          kids:'Yo  Homey' means
          something in South
          Central, it means fuck
          all here. We HATE
          internet newbies on the
          IRC talking about all
          of the above and
          clogging up the wires.
          We HATE anyone who is
          in a band. We HATE
          anyone who knows anyone
          in a band. We HATE
          anyone who has  ever
          listened to a band. We
          HATE anyone who either
          puts their fists in the
          air at gigs or brings
          whistles to a club.  We
          HATE pc yuppie bastards
          who listen to  sampled
          ethno historical pygmy
          music, think that
          enigma is cool and that
          they can really relate
          to the third world.
          Yeah right. We  HATE
          patronising superior
          fuckhead music students
          who mumble at the back
          of gigs about how the
          various instruments are
          out of tune. We HATE
          dimestore spiritualists,
          you know, the kinds of
          people who go to  a
          reservation or some
          third world type place,
          stay a while to grok
          their culture while not
          actually being accepted
          at all and then return
          to bore the shit out of
          us talking about what a
          deep experience they had over
          wine during dinner with
          Miles Farthington-
          Smythe. We HATE pagans,
          witches, anyone who
          says "thank goddess",
          especially the ones who
          go on and on and on
          about the phases of the
          moon and get really
          wrecked, then climb up
          a hill in the freezing
          cold and pass out and
          call it  a ritual.  We
          HATE SNAGS (sensitive
          new age guys) for
          obvious reasons.  We
          HATE fucking artists,
          people who purport to
          liking art, people who
          go  to art galleries or
          anyone who in all
          seriousness finds it
          interesting enough to
          discuss in public.  We
          HATE content providers,
          what the fuck does that
          mean anyway, "content
          provider", We  HATE  do
          do dodo do do do dodo
          doo dooo'do do dododo
          dododdloo do dodo
          dododdloo.  We HATE
          anyone who complains
          about not being able to
          download sounds, movies
          or shockwave files due
          to an inability to read
          the simple  and  clear
          instructions on screen.
          We HATE people who keep
          reminding you to "Watch
          the Skies" (because
          they   watch the X-
          Files). We HATE  people
          who  excuse  themselves
          for being assholes
          because of "spring
          fever", there is never
          an excuse for being an
          asshole.  We HATE who
          send you excessive e-
          mails and then phone
          you up to see if  you
          got it - if we didn't
          reply it's because we
          don't want to talk to
          you. We HATE it when
          you are walking down
          the street and the two
          people in front of you
          manage  to make it
          completely impassable
          even though you could
          normally
          drive a bus down it. We
          HATE those new beepers
          where you have to speak
          to a real person. What
          was wrong with the old
          style "type in  your
          number" and fuck off
          ones?  We HATE sugar &
          spice and all things
          nice etc. We HATE golf,
          what an idiotic sport.
          We HATE that we can't
          get any food around
          here after four o'clock
          in the afternoon
          because all the suits
          are going home. We HATE
          pubs shutting at
          eleven, why don't  they
          close at one as they do
          in Scotland. We HATE
          hate cabs who pick up
          violent pissed suits in
          preference to you
          because you supposedly
          look dodgy.  We HATE
          suits, but that goes
          without saying. We HATE
          anyone who doesn't like
          the Lion King. We HATE
          anyone uses the  words
          "repurpose", "psychographics",
          "added value" or "brand
          awareness" in any
          context other than to
          deride marketing.  We
          HATE really hot
          weather.  We HATE all
          forms of genetic
          engineering. We HATE
          apparently deaf people.
          We HATE Netscape 3.0b4,
          System 7.5.3 and
          anything else that
          constantly crashes.  We
          HATE children, because
          they are extremely
          irritating.  We HATE
          people who think that
          the millenium start in
          the year 2000. We HATE
          people who don't rewind
          the tapes from video
          shops.  We HATE  people
          in positions of
          authority who refuse to
          accept  responsibility
          for that  authority.
          But even more, We HATE
          people who assign
          authority  but insist
          on approving decisions
          made by those assigned.
          We HATE Rugby League,
          machosim, yobos and
          people who can't speak
          English without
          dribbling and saying
          ay, mayte? and oi a
          lot! "Bureaucracy?",
          Social heirachy/class
          Plus narrow mindedness
          and people who can't
          handle CHANGE! We HATE
          spiders!!!! We HATE
          having to be so
          negative all the time
          Most of all we HATE
          collective identity:
          every day of your
          pathetic life you are
          being put in a little
          box by society by the
          way you look or the
          bands you listen to.
          Collective identity
          sucks, began
          individual, don't make
          it easy to be dismissed
          in a sentence.
          
          www.obsolete.com/convulsion/hate.html


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JOCKS VS NERDS

THE NERD

I like men who carry pens. Men who think that Shea Stadium is
in New Jersey. Men who don't know how to tell the difference
between the home team and the visitors at a glance. Not that I
don't recognize the sex appeal of a fine athletic specimen, but
that's nothing that six minutes of gawking at Michael Jordan can't
fix. In this real, wired world, ignorance of jocky things is bliss.
Best to go out and get yourself a geek. 
Jocks kiss too hard. They have a conqueror mentality. They're
heavy on top. Sure, they're well-muscled and tend to walk
around naked more, but who wants to sink all her savings into a
gym membership just to keep up? You're always in better
physical shape than your nerd is. Nerds won't wake you too
early on weekends to go running or mountain biking, or watch
football on TV. Nerds can't see you in the morning until they're
reunited with their glasses. Allergies and bugs dictate that nerds
sleep in hotels, not tents, on vacation. 
I confess that I too once made the common, midwestern high
school mistake of coveting the boys with the big calves and the
cut-off jerseys. Eventually I learned a couple of important
lessons: One, nothing on earth has a less seductive odor than old
hockey gear. Two, no self-respecting teenage girl should go out
with anyone her dad can talk baseball with (i.e., approves of).
Weaning myself off the athletic boys slowly, I turned first to the
scrawniest football player I could find: the kicker. Then I went
cold turkey, to guys who entirely skipped Friday night games and
studied a lot. I discovered that not only did they read and write
and have tissues on hand, but they were much kinder on a
fragile, adolescent ego than the love-'em-and-leave-'em letter
jacket types. It's relatively easy to rock a geek's world; once over
the initially clumsy wooing stage, they're extremely loyal and
dedicated. The tradition continued in college, where I had a
consistent fondness for what one friend of mine who shared my
passion termed "assless liberal boys." But a rose is a rose, highly
allergenic as it may be. 
Which brings me to my closing argument for the value of the
lanky guy behind the glasses: Nerds, as opposed to
reliving-that-three-pointer jocks, grow up to be adults. They
won't drag you to dumb movies about team sports. They can't
drink you under the table, so you won't feel too sloppy when you
join them for cocktails. They never get in barroom brawls. Nerds
have more interesting personalities, better jobs, long fingers, and
send good E-mail. Take one home with you today. 


THE JOCK

Do jocks make better lovers? DUH. There's one very simple
answer to this question: stamina. It's essential, right? I mean,
that's the reason they can endure it all--the sudden-death
overtime, the 13th inning, the three- legged race. They're
high-powered and prepared to chug it out till the job's done, till
the game's over and won, till the lady's happy. Get it? So, if it's
just about lovin', well, the jock's got it won hands down. But it's
not just about that. 

Let's go down the long list of advantages. First of all, for purely
superficial reasons, jocks look better. Their bodies are nicer--and
there's no need to deny ourselves a little beauty in life, a little art.
It's OK to be surrounded by nice-looking things, I mean guys.
Swooning over biceps and fine asses are what they expect.
That's part of the reason jocks are out there in the first place . . .
for us. 
Think back to those high school football games and the sight of
those cut-off jerseys. Any raring-to-go teenage girl would choose
one of those boys over a calculus-loving geek. As far as
meaningful boyfriendly gestures go, wasn't it cooler to get a ride
on his bike or play "around the world" on the basketball court
than to receive an invitation to a chess club bake sale? The
jockish places to do it are also a plus. Beneath bleachers and
sweaty weight rooms are good spots. 
I didn't always appreciate the jock and his talents. Way back
when, it was a skinny, brooding type of boy, afraid of daylight,
whom I chased. When I finally cornered one, though, what a
disappointment! A congested, wheezing tissue-user too
consumed by NyQuil and kitschy Flintstones collectibles. He
didn't know anything about sports, was tormented as a kid by
bloodthirsty marathon sessions of dodgeball and could fit into the
same size jeans as me. No wonder I started looking at the athletic
guys. Three-pointers, perfect touchdown passes, and decking the
goalie are something to behold! 
There are the subtler sides to the relationship with a jock, too.
He can carry the heavier bags of groceries, which gives him a
delightfully domesticated look. He can run alongside your
departing train as he blows kisses your way. He can easily catch
you as you jump into his arms. When he returns home from a
pick-up game of basketball with jammed fingers and scraped
elbows, you can bust out the first-aid stuff and nurse him up. 
                                   
The jock boyfriend or husband is passionate about sports, and
this can be a very educational thing. Through osmosis, you can
develop a keen knowledge of baseball stats, recall the names of
the starting quarterbacks of the Big 10 schools, and learn to
recognize a bad call just as quickly as any enthusiast.
Accompanying your jock to live sporting events is always cool,
especially if he's playing in them. High school track and field,
college basketball, home-run derbies, darts, whatever. If he
works up a sweat and wears a uniform, all your jock
expectations are realized. 

The last thing I'd like to say about the big benefits of the male
athlete as boyfriend is that he knows about teamwork and fair
play, the keys to a smooth relationship. He's got rah-rah spirit
and is used to physical contact. The next time you watch a
college football game on TV, check out the boys as they huddle:
Those guys are holding hands! If they can do that for each other,
imagine what they can do for you.

http://www.charged.com/stories/jockvsnerd/showdown.html

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CON:    ISSUE THREE

        Reading the "HATE" list, I felt like adding a few, remove
a few others, but then I decided to leave it as it was (but I took
the freedom to correct a few spelling mistakes that I caught while
reading it).  Perhaps the one I like the best is the last one:
don't be labelled.  Everywhere you look you can classify someone.
He belongs to that group, she belongs to the other one.  Even the
so called "alternative" people that try to stand out, in the end
belong to a group called, you guessed it, the alternative.
        Send us in the one thing that you HATE and the one thing that
you LOVE.  (Make sure you write if you want to remain anonymous).
        For those that helped in this issue, thank you =)
