Capital of Nasty Electronic Magazine
Volume VI, Issue 2, AD MMI
Monday, April 23, 2001
ISSN 1482-0471
-------------------------------------------

An elephant: a mouse built to government specifications -Lazarus 
Long

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

PCMCIA - People Can't Memorise Computer Industry Acronyms
ISDN - It Still Does Nothing
APPLE - Arrogance Produces Profit-Losing Entity
IBM - I Blame Microsoft
DEC - Do Expect Cuts
CD-ROM - Consumer Device, Rendered Obsolete in months
OS/2 - Obsolete Soon, Too
WWW - World Wide Wait
MACINTOSH - Most Applications Crash; If Not, The Operating System 
Hangs
LOTUS - Lots Of Trouble, Usually Serious

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

1.  Editorial
2.  Waited tables in a deli/restaurant
3.  A Nice Pair: Two Stories from the World of Lingerie
4.  Go Rent Some Tsui Hark Films
5.  Fantasy
-------------------------------------------

This week's Golden Testicle award:

http://www.hypnotic.com/hypnotic.asp?content=tokyo.asp

Tokyo Breakfast

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

1. Editorial

As some of you may have guessed, this issue of CoN is way overdue.  
Some of you pointed that out, actually, with some rather angry 
tones.  And I must admit, I am.  But there are several reasons why 
this happened.

For starters, as I am writing this, my DSL is down and my phone 
dead, after the TelCo disconnected me.  I don't know why.  They 
don't know why.  They said they would fix this as soon as possible.  
They don't know when.

I've also been busy watching Twin Peaks on tape, mostly because I 
never bothered to watch it when it was originally on TV.  While this 
has the advantage that I don't get commercial breaks and I can fast-
forward past the boring non-Lodge related stuff, it has the downside 
that I find myself hooked.

I haven't slept now for three nights.  I'm eagerly going through the 
tapes to discover who Bob was, only to be interrupted by the sound 
of my alarm clock that tells me I should've been asleep a good 8 
hours ago.  At least.

This of course has caused me to turn into a sort of zombie.  While 
this has the horrible side effect that I tend to fall asleep just 
about anywhere, it has a wonderful advantage I never deemed 
possible.  But more on that later.

The third reason why CoN is late is a combination of lazyness and 
the fact that I also can't finish a single article I've been 
writing.  Starts are a dime a dozen, but a good ending just seem to 
lack me.  One more to file under the "Unfinished" folder.  I've lost 
track of how many I've written.

And lastly, work.

I hate work.

Now, there used to be a time, in this world, that when you said "I 
work with internet stuff" (or something more descriptive about your 
job that included "net" or "web" in your title), people looked at 
you with almost the same love, admiration and jealousy as if you had 
said "Bank manager".

Working with web, sucks.  Now, it's not the technology.  Sure, I 
could write pages and pages about Microsoft and their concept of 
reliability (I'm sure it's thanks to Windows that computers have a 
"reboot" button), or the many new Internet applications to spice up 
your website so that it takes an extra five days to download.  Or 
your Microsoft Certified Imbecile that has no idea of what the basic 
functions of a computer are, much less urinate.

None of that.

It's the managers.  Managers are lost.  They have no clue about how 
anything works.  They have an idea in their mind, and even if means 
a website that's a 5 MB flash animation with non-vector based images 
just to get the right touch and what not, they will demand it.  
Useless are the cries for sanity by the peons that work for them.

So, that's probably one of the number one reasons I haven't had the 
energy to write, together with the usual messed up office politics 
that show once again that any good deed is punished and that being a 
bastard gets you rewarded.

Mind you, my lack of sleep has had the beneficial sides I was 
mentioning above.  Things just go by me without any notice.  
Meetings happen and I sort of remember being there, but it's all a 
fuzzy memory of my boss opening and closing his mouth and nonsense 
coming out (unlike nonsense that I could comprehend).  And yesterday 
the day went by so fast that I don't even remember what I did.  
Something, I'm sure.

Things take forever.  You stare at them.  You sort of recognise the 
pattern and you're waiting for your brain to tell you what to do 
next.  But like the bus stop that I missed this morning, I just sort 
of stood there, on the bus, staring at it.  My brain didn't say 
anything until two stops later.
"You were supposed to get off at that stop you stared at so 
intensively".

But I digress, as usual.

On the bright side, people seem to think I've spent an all nighter 
on some project and act all nice around me.  "Oh you look tired, you 
must've worked all night!"

"Why I most definitely have", or at least, that's what I'd like to 
say, but I just hear myself moan and say "uhm, yeah" about half an 
hour later when my brain has processed what they said.

Really, I just want to know who Bob is and why there is a dancing 
midget. Six more tapes to go.

HE KNEW THAT SONG

Brian Newman responds in regards to Melissa De Wilde's article "The 
Journal of Smell":

> I KNEW THAT SONG. And, I sang along, as I read.

WE REALLY DON'T SUCK THAT MUCH

> Hey Leandro,
>
> just to tell you I _totally_ enjoyed the last CoN, and I'm
> looking forward to many more.
> You sounded so writer's blocked, so I thought I'd tell you you
> guys are doing an absolutely
> tremendous job!
> Thanks man!
> Wout.

It's nice to be told something nice once in a while.  Thank you and 
sorry for the (usual) delays.

PLEASE, TELL ME SHE IS STERILE

> just for the record:
> perhaps in Canada the groundhog looks out on Feb 1 but here in
> America it's Feb. 2
>
> I asked to be taken off your mailing list before. That
> Jesus alleged quote has prompted this reminder -- I do
> not wish to receive your newsletter.
> 
> I still like to see the g.t. award site
> best wishes
> ellen kokoris

Just for the record, Ellen, the unsubscribe instructions are written 
at the bottom of every issue and of course, when you first 
subscribed, in the message you received.  Also, replying to the 
message you received will unsubscribe you from the list.  And to 
make it even easier for mentally challenged folks such as yourself, 
we changed it from "unsubscribe" to "leave".  It's harder, I hope, 
to misspell a five letter word.

And lastly, the CoN website is slowly taking shape thanks to Colin.  
You can see his current work in progress by going here:

http://www.capnasty.org/slob/issues.sqml?vol=5

Thank you for your patience.

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

2.  Waited tables in a deli/restaurant
By Rev. Sean C. Rothstein-Jacobson

Okay here is a job that only an idiot or a psycho would willingly 
take.  This place was across the street from the world's largest 
aquarium, which attracted millions of tourists every year.  As if 
basic food service wasn't bad enough, this was a tourist spot ad 
infinitum.  We served deli-type food a slightly higher than deli 
prices to endless rivers of pissed off folks who had just spent 
about $100 to get their family through the overcrowded meat tunnels 
of the aquarium only to then have their kids whine about how hungry 
they were.  Which brings them to us: an overpriced rat hole of a 
restaurant.

Basically this translates into a non-stop stream of business with 
bad attitudes and no want or money to tip with.  It was really 
fucking frustrating how much those bastards would vent on us- as if 
WE were responsible for their vacation choice, fat spouse and ill 
raised progeny.  Just because your life is a total loss doesn't mean 
your server's is- shut-the-fuck-up and eat your food, tip if the 
service is good and disappear.

The owners of this place were straight out of some Midwest nightmare 
stereotype, Roger and Ruth.  Ruth had a problem with pharmaceuticals 
and Roger had a problem with speed- a marriage made in Hell if ever 
there was one.  Unlike most speed freaks that come to mind, Roger 
was ultimately what you'd call a "Good 'Merican."   Football was the 
be-all end-all of human accomplishment for him- he knew stats and 
lifetime records for teams and their players, the guy was an 
encyclopaedic freak insofar as the game went.

He owned his own business and was a staunch republican.  He'd make 
your grandparents proud, aside from the amphetamines, that is.  He 
got a lotto machine in the store, kind of an odd appliance for a 
restaurant in my opinion, and then spent hundreds of dollars daily 
on Keno... he'd sit blankly watching the T.V. screen waiting for the 
next set of numbers to come up, beer in fat fist so tight he'd dent 
the can.  Pathetic.  One time he told us at an employee meeting, 
jowls all flapping, that the only reason we could kick someone out 
of the restaurant was if they said that the food was "cheap."

"OUR FOOD MAY BE INEXPENSIVE, but it's NOT CHEAP!!!"  His fists were 
balled in righteous indignation while he sweated so profusely that 
he looked freshly showered.  Ahhh, speed is such a lovely drug...

Ruth, on the other hand, was sweet.  Her drug psychosis took the 
form of puttering around the shop cleaning this or that in a 
barbiturate haze- a total self-encapsulated neurosis, which- if you 
are going to be neurotic- is really rather considerate of the people 
around you.  Don't push your pathos on other people, it makes you 
look grotesque.  Keep your neurosis close to your chest when in the 
working world and you'll do much better, trust me.

Two others of note that I worked with: Simon and Erik.  Simon was a 
tall, lanky, former-Brit hippie who was one of the slickest, 
slimiest bastards I have ever known.  This guy had Roger and Ruth 
wrapped around his pinkie, the customers constantly laughing, and 
every female- eligible or not- flirting with him.  I have no fucking 
clue how he did it.  I mean he could ask a woman to meet him after 
work right in front of her boyfriend and everyone would laugh, AND 
THEN THEY WOULD ACTUALLY MEET LATER!  I mean it was obvious to me 
that he was a straight up player, gaming with everyone who came into 
his sphere and the lack of other people noticing this really didn't 
improve my opinion of Humanity.  He was a funny co-worker, but not 
someone I could trust farther than I could throw.  His manipulatory 
skills simply boggled me.

Erik went by the nickname "clit"- which should just about say it 
all.  He was a funny, quick witted guy, but the sort of person you'd 
hang out in front of 7-11 all night long with.  He basically talked 
either good-humored insults, dope, sex, or mountain bikes.  Good guy 
to drink with but a shining example of what to avoid in regard to a 
lifestyle.

Aside from washing dishes in a bar/ restaurant (q.v.) I think I 
smoked more dope at this job than any other in my illustrious 
career.  Simon, Erik and I would pool our paltry tips and buy cheap 
Mexican eighths from a guy who worked at the aquarium and smoke 
them, plural, over the course of the workday.  It was great, made 
all the crap I was pitched from the tourists tolerable.  It wasn't 
like I had to be on the ball here, I mean the bastards weren't going 
to tip me and they were already in a pissy mood.  Fuck'em, they were 
only flotsam in a stream of flesh anyway.

"SIMON-", I'd scream across a crowded restaurant-THERES A PIPE 
CLOGGED IN THE WALK-IN, COULD YOU TAKE CARE OF IT?"  I loved that.

One day Simon doesn't show for a shift, not unusual, but this time 
it is REAL busy and Roger has to tear himself from the Keno to cover 
for him.  He flies into a rage fit and just radiates anger to every 
customer he comes in contact with, real professional, whereas I was 
just calm and happy- that is speed vs. dope in a work environment.  
The next day Simon has inexplicably been promoted to the position of 
Manager....

This was the kind of job where it was simply the best route to be 
constantly stoned.  Things were a lot more understandable that way.  
As a result, though, a lot of the day-to-day details of it are fuzzy 
to me now which is likely for the best considering I remember having 
the nickname "Seeker of the Cheese" and it hurts my brain to even 
attempt to think about it....

---
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.

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

3.   A Nice Pair: Two Stories from the World of Lingerie
By Melissa DeWilde

1) Mel Gets Hit On.

Random ICQ Guy (Teas) - Can I ask you some personal questions?

Me - You can ask all you want, but I'm not guaranteeing they'll be 
answered.

RIG - What size bra do you wear?

Me to Rev.m on IRC - This guy on ICQ wants to know my bra size.  
What should I tell him?

Rev.m - Tell him it's irrelevant since the car wreck.

Me to RIG - Well, it's really irrelevant since the car accident.

RIG - Wow!  Really?

Me - Yeah, me and a friend were driving around town in her 
convertible and I was flashing people, and I guess I distracted a 
semi-driver, and he side-swiped us. 
And, well...

RIG - Whoa.

Me  - Yeah.  And it's really not that hard to type with one hand.

RIG - Dude, you're just fucking with me.

Me - Yes, yes I am.  Did you figure that our all by yourself?

RIG - Uh, Yeah.  Well... What's your bra size?


2)Mel goes bra shopping

There comes a time in every young girls life to go and buy a bra.  
Or two or three.  The first of these trips is almost always taken 
with the girl's mother.  The developing woman is a bit shy, a bit 
aprehensive, a bit excited.  This is her first time in the lingerie 
or intimates section of Wally World.  It's a step into a new world.  
She doesn't know what to think of it and feels a bit out of place.  
	
Most women grow out of the first fear of bra shopping.  I didn't.  
So, when after two years of dormancy, they started growing again, I 
set my jaw, rolled up my sleeves and decided to go bra shopping.  
Sometime.
	
For a while I considered becoming a true hippy woman and saying to 
the garbage with underwear altogether.  But after discovering that 
going braless hurt after a while, and to prevent the development of 
what my boyfriend called gopher boobs, I told myself to make a trip 
to the mall the next chance I got.  
	
That first trip was good.  I got lucky at the first store I went to.  
They were having a sale.  so after fighting off the clerk, i got 
some cheap bras!  They were 10 bucks each, which I think  is way too 
much for something no one sees (well, in my case), but cheap for a 
bra nonetheless.  But they were both sports bras, sort of, and as 
much as I hate to admit to an audience of 600 or so that have a 
prefrence, I like the regular kind better.  But I couldn't find any 
more. So this trip ended.  I was satisfied, but not done. 
	
Spring break comes and I go home.  I was kept pretty busy for most 
of the week, but towards the end I grew bored and restless.  So I 
left a note for my mom who
was at work, hopped in the car, and headed off to Bloomington, the 
closest big city near Lincoln, the toilet I'm from.
	
At the mall, in Kohl's, I resumed the quest for the bra.  I putzed 
around the lingerie section for a while, found a suitable bra, and 
then discovered the clearance rack!  I like cheap.  
	
As soon as I'm elbow deep in ladies undergarments, I hear a friendly 
male voice behind me.
	
"Hey, MEL!"
	
I turn around, a bit startled.  It's an old friend from camp.  and 
I'm bra shopping.  I turn a fair shade of red. 
	
"Hey, Flop!" (His brother was Philip, shortened to Flip, so it was 
natural that we called him Flop.  The youngest brother is Flooie) 

"You know," I said, "It's great to see you, but I really hate bra 
shopping, and you're not helping one bit.  But how the heck are 
you??"
	
It turns out that Flop works in Kohl's.  Well, he doesn't really 
work, he just stands around looking important, I guess, but you get 
the idea.  We spent almost 2 hours talking about this and that.  
School, camp, family, regular BS.  
	
By the time we finally departed (he had to get off work in fifteen 
minutes) I needed to get back home before the mum started to worry.  
(It was rather nasty outside and I had never driven out of town by 
myself before)  
	
So journey number two yields one bra, one trip down memory lane, and 
a couple of 14 guage earrings, cause I've been wanting to stretch 
out my earring holes a bit.  (It hurts)  But I'm off the subject.  
	
Expedition number three comes on the way back to school after spring 
break.  My mom, a quilter, brought two friends along to go to 
Paducah, KY, the quilting capitol of the universe, or something like 
that, which happens to be about an hour away from carbondale where 
I'm going to school.  My Grandmother lives in Metropolis, IL 
(alleged home of Superman) which is very near Paducah.  So we stayed 
the night at her house before dropping me off at school the next 
day.
	
When the ladies went off to go fabric shopping in Paducah I had them 
drop me off at the mall to waste some time.  Before getting out of 
my grandma's car I noticed a lack of padding on my right butt-cheek.  
I had left my wallet in the car in metropolis.  Crap.  I mention 
this to my mom and she performs and amazing
feat of faith and trust.  She gives me her credit card.  And ten 
dollars.  She warns me not to go crazy with it.  I give her an evil 
laugh and run off.  
	
My first thoughts upon entering the mall of how to freak out my mom 
when she comes back to pick me up.  I considered going into various 
stores and asking for
empty bags and paper to stuff them with.  I'm sure my mom is glad I 
didn't do this.  Too much trouble for a small prank. 

So anywho, as I'm sure you've figured out, I once again set upon my 
quest of finding a suitable bra.  I go to sears.  I go to 
JCPenney's.  I go to a ton of other stores.  I even went to 
Dillard's and found that they have separate men's and women's 
stores.  There weren't any bras in the men's store that I first went
into.

During my final mall adventure I passed a booth of girl scouts 
dressed up as various cookies chanting, "Gi-irl Scout coo-ookies.  
Threeee dollars a bo-ox," over and over.  And over.  There was also 
a booth selling little wedding dresses for three year olds.  At 
least, that's what they looked like to me.  I guess they were for 
little girl pagents.  I hope someone shoots me if I ever have 
children and dress them like that.  (I know this has nothing to do 
with bra shopping, but it gives you the whole mall feeling a lot 
better)

The mall is a great place to find all kinds of people.  Among these 
denizens of the mall is the enevitable group of 12-15 year old girls 
carrying Victoria's Secret bags.  Most of them don't look like they 
even need training bras, much less a 28 dollar piece of lace and 
see-through satin that they'll probably out-grow in a few months.

But, I think to myself, now that I know there's one in the mall 
that's probably where I'll end up.  

I was right.  I stood outside the entrance for a while talking to 
myself.  "Everyone else in there is doing the same thing," I say to 
me, "It's just a bra.  No one will give you strange looks.  It's 
just another store. "    

Yes, but this store is covered in irridescent pink wallpaper, plush 
carpet, high class porn music (not that I would know what that is, 
but that's what it sounded like to me), busty manequins wearing 
thongs and clerks who walk about in black Dana Scully business suits 
carrying measuring tapes around their necks.  They probably call 
themselves something like "Personal Intimate Apparel Consultants".  

I think that's what scares me most about that place.  They're so 
danged eager to talk underwear with anyone.  I'll always remember 
the time my friend Tess dragged me in there when she needed to buy 
something.  She got a pair of underwear that were supposed to make 
you look thinner or something.  

"Oh my gosh!" squealed a PIAC when she saw Tess's selection, "Have 
you ever tried our (such and such) panty hose? If you wear those 
with that underwear it'll make you look ten pounds lighter, I 
swear!" 

All of this was gasped out in about two seconds flat.  Tess gave a 
polite answer and quickly walked away.  I was trying not to laugh.

And now here I am, about to embark on a Vic's Secret journey of my 
own.  

I take a deep breath and walk towards the door, avoiding the rush of 
departing prepubescent girls.  They all seem to be trying to look 
like Brittney Spears.  I shudder and continue inside.  

Almost at once i'm assaulted by a PIAC.  

"Hi there! Can I help you find anything?"

"Um, no thanks," I reply, "I'm just looking."

I mentally kick myself in the head.  I hate saying that.  Makes me 
sound like an old man letcher.  "Nope, I'm just looking at all the 
pretty underwear... and
the manequins... May I be left alone now?" Drool, drool.  

Oh well.  She informs me of their sales and tells me to ask if i 
need anything then heads off to arrange various scraps of fabric on 
their padded and scented satin hangers.  That wasn't so bad.  I'm 
probably just overblowing the situation. (Gee, that's never happened 
before.  But "Today I went to Victoria's Secret and tried on a bra," 
wouldn't make a very good story, now would it? )  

Anywho, I find a couple of bras and go try to find someone to open 
up a dressing room for me.  Why do they keep them locked up anyway?  
As I was waiting I was amused by a grandmother and her two 5-7 year 
old grandkids gawking at a stringed thong bodysuit thing. It was 
extremly funny.  They kept walking around the manequin it was on, 
tugging at various bits of cloth and string making comments and 
wondering how and why anyone would want to wear something like that.  

I chuckled to myself and they soon left with the mother of the 
children.  Only then was I noticed by the cashier who let me into my 
own personal changing cage, complete with ornate golden wall lamp, 
comfy padded chair and pink and white striped wall paper with gold 
hearts all over it.  And if that wasn't scary enough, I had to take 
off my shirt!  Haha, just kidding.  I couldn't help it.  

But we were talking about my reluctant quest for a bra.  Well, I 
found one I liked.  But I didn't buy it.  It was 28 frickin dollars!  
And, if you remember, I had my mom's credit card.  And no 
identification either.  That was left with my wallet as well.  So 
even if did want to buy it, I probably wouldn't have been able to.  
No, I decided to go online and buy it with my own card.
	
And so I hung the bras back up and left.  On the way out I was 
almost knocked down by a giant trucker-type fellow on his way out as 
well.  It takes all kinds I guess.  I think the reason I don't like 
to go in that place is because of the way I always dress.  Baggy 
jeans, Star Wars, Phish or Pink Floyd tee shirts, a
couple of little braids and a German Army jacket.  And some blue 
hair this time. But I'll probably always feel out of place in there.  
	
The next place I go is the Shop-Ko to buy a notebook so I could 
write down all the great stuff I was thinking up while inside Vic's.  
Mom found me outside the mall scribbling like mad, and tried to 
steal my notebook to see what I was writing about.  I promised her a 
look when I was done.  

And so the next day comes and I get online and order my bras.  And 
aren't I glad I did?  It was on sale online, for 15 bucks!  I got 
two!  

And so my bra shopping ends... For now. 

I wonder what Victoria's secret IS anyway.  I'll bet she's a man.  

---
Melissa DeWilde likes ice cream.  BUY HER ICE CREAM!!

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

4.  Go Rent Some Tsui Hark Films
By Jeff Wright

Go Rent Some Tsui Hark Films
by Jeff Wright

	The title says all I want to say, but Leo tells me that I 
should write a bit more.  So if you don't really want to read what I 
have to say, just head to the video store you go to for your HK film 
fixes and rent some Hark films.

	Tsui Hark, is one cool motherfucker!  It just so happens that 
he makes cool ass movies, as well.  This past week and a half, I 
watched 4 Tsui Hark directed films, and 2 that he produced.

The Produced by Tsui Hark films:

A BETTER TOMORROW

This is a John Woo, flic about a pair of brothers.  One a criminal, 
and one a cop.  Throw Chow Yun Fat, into the mix, and you have a 
flic that's entertaining at times, but nothing special.  

SWORDSMAN II

Starring Jet Li, as a drunken swordsman, this is a really fun and 
exciting flic.  The plot's a little too confusing at times for its 
own good, but you can follow it.  Characters have similar names, or 
are only called by their titles (ie: Chief, etc...), and it gets a 
little messy.  The film's got a bunch of fun action though.  If you 
like swordplay films, you certainly won't be dissapointed by this, 
from an action standpoint.

The Directed by Tsui Hark films:
	
ZU: WARRIORS OF THE MAGIC MOUNTAIN

This is one of the first big special effects films made in HK.  It's 
fairly dated, but still a lot of fun.  It's got some dumb plot about 
having to get a couple of magical swords in order to defeat an evil 
presence.  It's all about flying swords, and other various effects.  
Again, this is a real pleaser for action fans.  Be warned that there 
are some weird versions of the film out there with strange bookend 
sections, featuring the main character in the present day, as a 
university student or something.  I'm not sure, because I stopped 
watching that version (which was dubbed), went and bought the 
subtitled DVD, and have been happy since.  Miramax has bought the 
sequel (ZU 2), which was just made, and will be releasing it later 
this year to cash in on the CROUCHING TIGER, HIDDEN TIGER thang, as 
THE LEGEND OF ZU.  We can only hope that it'll be released subtitled 
as well.

A BETTER TOMORROW 3

A prequel to A BETTER TOMORROW, focusing on Chow Yun Fat's 
character.  Hark's direction is the only thing that keeps this thing 
afloat.  It's a pretty stupid movie, but I was entertained for the 
most part.  If you really need to know where Chow Yun Fat got his 
trenchcoat and sunglasses though, check the flic out.

ONCE UPON A TIME IN CHINA	

This is the best of the bunch.  It stars Jet Li, and is soooo damn 
good!  It's set against a lot of racial  and territorial conflicts 
between England, France, the U.S., and China (hope I'm getting 
everyone).  The action is this film flat out rocks!!!  The second 
last fight, rivals stuff from DRUNKEN MASTER II (a.k.a. THE LEGEND 
OF DRUNKEN MASTER).  Go rent it now!!!  Ladders.  That's all I've 
got to say.  Ladders.

TIME AND TIDE

Hark's latest film, and certainly one of his best.  It's the most 
fun I've had watching a movie so far this year.  TIME AND TIDE is a 
crazy little fucker of an action film.  Sheer brilliance as far as 
I'm concerned.  It rarely lets up, and keeps a smile on your face, 
with its style, and sense of fun.  Columbia/Tri-Star is supposed to 
be giving TIME AND TIDE a limited release in theatres this spring or 
summer.  There's a HK VCD that was just released (which is sadly how 
I watched the film).  It's P&S which sucks, but it looks great for a 
VCD.  So if you've got a Chinatown where you live, go pick it up.  
Or wait until it gets its proper release here.  Just make sure, that 
if you like amazing action films, you see it.

Also, if you live in NY, you're a lucky bitch or bastard.  There's 
gonna be an anthology series on Tsui Hark's films, from May through 
July (sadly TIME AND TIDE won't be shown).  For more information, 
check out http://www.subwaycinema.com .

Here's what I'm gonna watch this week and a bit, if ya care:

THEATERS

MEMENTO (dir. Christopher Nolan)

VIDEO

PEKING OPERA BLUES (dir. Tsui Hark)
ONCE UPON A TIME IN CHINA III (dir. Tsui Hark)
SISTERS (dir. Brian DePalma)
NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 4 (dir. Renny Harlin)
IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE (dir. Wong Kar Wai)

---
As much as it pains him to say it, Jeff doesn't recommend SPY KIDS.  
The Thumb-Thumbs were cool though.

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

5.  Fantasy
By Rev.M

The other day I felt extremely lucky and bought a lottery ticket. Of 
course I didn't win anything, I never do. But on the rare occasions 
that I buy lottery tickets, I start daydreaming about what I would 
do if I were ever to become filthy rich.

A friend of mine once said he would divorce his wife and move to the 
islands. He never won or moved to the islands, but he did divorce 
his wife. It reminds me of when I was married, I always thought the 
same thing... I ended up divorcing my wife... or did she divorce me? 
Divorces are confusing like that. Most people don't want to get 
divorced because no one around them wants them to get divorced.  
They usually end up doing it anyway, but not without a busload of 
guilt.

I remember a few times while I was married that I had fantasies that 
involved my wife being killed in a car wreck or maybe dying of some 
disease that would throw her from this mortal coil like a slingshot. 
These feelings were normal. Guilt from these feelings was normal. 
Why is it so hard to tell someone you don't love him or her anymore? 
I often wonder if everyone is as selfish as I am? Judging from all 
the people I know or have known I would have to say yes. When I was 
younger I was almost afraid that I was evil. I now feel that I am 
just a cynical person.

Anyway, I just bought this lottery ticket and I was fantasizing on 
what I would do with all this money that I would win. I realized 
that something in me has changed because I realized that I would pay 
off all of my families and loved ones debts and that I would buy my 
fianc‚ a big house. Where did this big heart of mine come from? Now 
I felt guilty for never making this my first priority when I was 
younger! The human mind is a mess and if this isn't proof I am not 
sure what is.

Then I thought that it was all well and good to do this but what 
would I do after I had paid off all of my loved ones debt? What 
would be next? I resolved that I would probably sit around and read 
and play video games for the rest of my life! How boring! So then, I 
thought that I would take my fianc‚ around the world...yes, 
traveling would cure boredom. Then I thought that sooner or later 
that this would start to grate on my nerves as I have already 
traveled quite a bit and sooner or later site seeing is not what it 
should be. 

Well maybe I could turn into a drunken old bastard and just write 
hateful stories and have them posted on the Internet. Two problems 
with that - One: I can't write anything worth a crap when I drink. 
Two: Denise would probably divorce me for being drunk all the time 
and take half my money and send me spiraling into an alcoholic 
stupor that would probably lead to my death!     

But then, the other tangent struck me, I would just find a barfly 
and we could drink ourselves to death! But of course since she would 
be a drunk she would be unbearable and probably end up getting 
syphilis from fucking around on me which would force me to hit her 
or something horrible like that and then I would have to find 
another woman anyway.

So the mean drunk isn't such a great idea either.

Then I came to a realization that I would never be content being 
filthy rich! But then again I am not content anyway. The greatest 
shame of life is being young and actually believing that you will 
grow up and be content. So, leave it up to a woman- a very wise 
woman- to sum it up for me. I had this discussion about this subject 
with my fianc‚ and she said, "Tim, you have to understand that there 
is an art in being bored and if you learn it you will at least be 
able to pretend you are content."

I took that into consideration and now I can't go to sleep because I 
am trying to figure out how to be bored! ARRRGH! What is wrong with 
me?  It is a damn good thing that Leandro requested that I write an 
article for him, otherwise I think that I might have had to be taken 
away in the paddy wagon tonight.

---
rev. m is the last of the really bad lovers.  I mean, really bad, 
man.  He sticks it in the wrong holes by mistake.  By mistake!  I 
know he once spent a hundred bucks on a hooker and accidentally 
fucked his shoe.  Easy night for the hooker, not for the shoe.

Still, he is a good writer.  Just don't fuck him.

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

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

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