Capital of Nasty Electronic Magazine
Volume III, Issue 17, AD MCMXCVIII
Monday, October 19th, 1998
ISSN 1482-0471
-------------------------------------------

"That's what I do except I don't pray in the morning.  Just at 
night.  Sometimes in the morning if I have something big goin' on 
that day.  And I don't know if anything can make me a better person.  
But I guess if anything or anyone can, it would be God.  But again, 
I think God knows the old coinage "If it ain't broke, don't fix it", 
and lives by it."
 -- J.W.

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

"hey... do you work on CoN?"
 -- J. Bell

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

1.  Editorial letters
2.  The "Cram-ation" 
3.  "Turkey Toss"
4.  I Dropped My Pen...Time for a Killing Spree
5.  School
-------------------------------------------

This week's Golden Testicle award:

The Capt. James T. Kirk Sing-a-long Page

http://www.geron.uga.edu/~rob/kirk/kirk.html

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

1. Editorial letters
by CoN staff

ASSUMING THAT ONLY 1% of the readership bothered to reply each time 
we sent CoN out, we would be receiving an average of 10 e-mails per 
issue.

Oddly, this is not the case.

Besides the strange and constant arrival of e-mails with requests to 
be un-subscribed (so much for instructions at the end of each 
issue), the e-mails that we receive can be counted on one hand, and 
without, usually, raising too many fingers.

Of these few e-mails, there is, to our surprise, the occasional 
intelligent reply.  The "intelligent reply" is a rarity, as usually 
the majority of mail that we receive, seems to be a supernova of 
stupidity that just blew up somewhere in cyber-space.

Now, we realize that CoN is not exactly your average intelligent 
magazine, with either a political, technical or musical manifesto.  
If it's a rant, or it's just plain ironic with no references to real 
life, chances are, you will find it here.

We don't think of CoN as the King of `Zines, nor we think of 
ourselves as the lowest of the low. We believe we hold a tiny yet 
significant portion of insanity, easy to digest, available for your 
average intelligent person who has had the gift of a sense of humor.

And considering that our articles vary from those with depth and 
intelligence, to those that are completely stupid, it is surprising 
to see that either a) hardly anyone bothers to say anything at all 
or b) they flip their nutsuck in a frenzy of dickplay about what has 
been said.

Perhaps the majority, when they see CoN in their `box, just hit the 
ol' DEL key, rather than finding out how to unsubscribe.  Others 
read through it, and then forget about it.  Or maybe, they just like 
CoN the way it is, not expecting too much and are used to the type 
of articles we manage to dig from the gutter of human minds.

We'll never know.  But as the "stupid e-mails" keep on coming, at 
least we have the assurance, that someone, out there, read the 
issue, misunderstood it to the best of their ability, and found it 
disturbing enough to hit Reply.


The first e-mail to arrive to our boxes was by Stiffe.  Clearly this 
is a joke e-mail sent in order to tick off Jeff Wright, author of 
that boring "movie list!" and to shred both him and his section to 
pieces. It's, needlessly to say, funny.  Jeff said he found it 
funny.  Jeff also knows personally Stiffe.  Stiffe might not find 
what Jeff has in mind funny.


> Great issue. However, Jeff don't know shit about movies. 
> Therefore, I'd like to write a complaint to the movie critic who
> thinks he's hot shit.

> First of all Jeff, you so-called "long winded bastard," how the
> fuck did you become an expert.  You sort of forgot the best movie
> of all time on your list! If you haven't figured it out by now, 
you
> silly fuck, I'm talking about "Transformers, The Movie".  And 
those
> other movies you list, sweet fuck on wheels, what the hell were 
you
> thinking?

> Now, as a benefit for the real readers of CoN, I have taken the
> opportunity to include the real list of movies that should have
> been included in this issue.  They are as follows:

> 1. "Transformers, The Movie"  - but hell, you already knew that,
> didn't you.

> 2. "Debbie Does Dallas" - this was the definitive movie for all of
> mankind.  It is because of this movie that men can relieve
> themselves at very stressful times.  Just like how Jeff "the movie
> critic" does, except that he has never experienced a stressful
> time.  He just likes to whack off a lot.

> 3. "no frills, The Movie" - hold your breath, it's about to be
> released soon.  Talk about action-packed, it stars past and
> current employees of the no frills chain.  It's filled with
> heart-pounding, non-stopping blood pouring action scenes and hot
> sexy steamy love shots that are just tame enough so this flick
> won't have a XXX rating. It's awesome with a capital A!

> So there you have it folks, the real "movies to see" list.   Don't
> take any bullshit from the palm-lovin', cock-strockin', dick fuck
> Jeff.  He just don't know shit.

>                 Sincerely yours,
>                             a devoted and loyal CoN subscriber

Our second e-mail is from David Norris.  We can't call this e-mail 
stupid, since it falls under that same type of `rant' that makes 
CoN.  There are a few discrepancies however that will get him 
flamed.


From:             David Norris <davidn@rundel.com>
Subject:          you're only encouraging them by publishi
To:               "'leandro@capnasty.org'" <leandro@capnasty.org>

>     Well I been on your list for some time, and even though some 
of
> your articles are great, others seem to be pushing the envelope of
> mediocrity. But I've never bothered to complain, not just because
> it's free but nothing was ever bad enough to warrant the time, 
even
> that 40 page treatise on movie monsters or whatever it was a few
> months ago (The Last Dinosaur - Ed.), at least after a few minutes
> of holding the pgdn key I could be done with that, and maybe it
> could have been interesting if I had a week to read it. but that
> relationships according to garp (Gard E. Abrahamsen - Ed.)letter
> and that ridiculous article on god just cry out for ridicule.

>     Now maybe you want your readers to have a chance to have their
> say, and so you feel obliged to print the occasional spew from a
> reader, however moronic, but the least you could do is have a
> running commentary mocking the crap to make it entertaining. 
First,
> out of the entire article that lilith chick (Lilith DemHareIs -
> Ed.) wrote, he takes one word, 'somebody', and from there gets on
> his personal soap box to harangue us all about role models and
> skewed perceptions of who one should be... And the least he could
> have done was look up irony and oxymoron and use the right one. I
> could go on for days on his inanity, but I trust you get my point.

>     Now on to god stuff: Appreciably short is the only good thing 
I
> can say.   How is one to reconcile the following statements: 'I
> dont believe in god.'

> simple enough, you say god don't exist.

> 'I don't think that God even has a 'will''

> 'Our job, I believe, is to follow the path that he has laid out 
for
>  us...' (which would require a will no?)


>     Well, now I see. An atheist who now has very definite opinions
> about a being he doesn't believe exists. In fact, every word he
> says after the opening line makes it abundantly clear that he
> thinks there's a god. But besides the fact that the entire premise
> of the article is paradoxical, it also makes a narrow minded and
> thoughtless observation about god's will. To look at it from a
> believer's point of view, knowing and following god's will makes
> perfect sense. In almost every religion god has a mouthpiece who 
he
> speaks through, and that is how he lets his will known, at least 
as
> far as what he wants his children to do. It takes no blasphemous
> assumption on the part of the believer to accept that god doesn't
> want them to kill people, only faith that it's god telling them.

>     Well, enough complaining for me. I did enjoy the other
> articles, even the one about the watermelon boy.

> Sarcastro

You got it big mouth

Translation:

I am much more brilliant than these losers because I sit back here 
and mock something rather than putting something forward myself, 
opening up myself for potential criticism.  I will not do that 
because some them may be wittier than I am, and may make me look and 
feel bad.  

I am deeply offended by this ezine even though I can't recall 
someone putting a gun to my head and ordering me to read it.  The 
articles are shit, my articles would be much better if I actually 
wrote any.

The person who doesn't believe in god is stupid because they haven't 
read articles and books I've read, which were written by other 
people.  But I will adopt their arguments and regurgitate them here.  
I would instantly join a cult if a prominent intellectual said it 
was the alternative thing to do.

But don't unsubscribe me, I enjoy complaining.



ONE LAST WORD before we leave you with the issue.  Some have pointed 
out that they feel that the `themes' in CoN limit their creativity, 
as they feel they HAVE to write about whatever topic CoN is about.  
That is wrong.  The Themes in CoN are given for inspirational 
purposes only.  We believe it is easier to write something down if 
you have a starting block, rather than having to think of something 
up.  This however doesn't mean that we will not accept articles with 
subjects different than the theme of the issue.  Creativity should 
not be limited in anyway.  So if you feel like writing something 
which has nothing at to do with the issue, don't stop yourself.  
It's always welcomed here at CoN.   And just so you know, the next 
Theme for CoN will be about "Movies and Television", but this 
doesn't mean your articles have to be.

Have a great issue.

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

2.  The "Cram-ation" 
By Peter Sprokkelenburg

Everyone who went to high school at one point in their academic 
career was required to do an essay. We all know too well the perils 
of waiting to the last minute to finish it for the following class.

It all starts when the teacher hands out the assignment and says 
that the essay is due in two weeks. Cool, you think, you got lots of 
time to get to the library get the material and start the outline 
for it.

All of a sudden you realize that you now have a week left, it's due 
next Friday, and it's a week before. You decide that instead of 
blowing off plans to go and party this weekend, that you'll just 
party tonight. You'll get home not to late, and go the library 
Saturday afternoon. You have a great time at the party, have one too 
many drinks and end up passing out on the floor of some girl's 
bedroom. You wake up to find your self amongst a sea of drunken 
students on the floor, not sure exactly where you are. 

The room spins, every time you open you eyes. The person behind you 
is serving well a pillow, and the person at your feet is helping 
keep your toes warm. The sudden urge to know what time it is forces 
you to open your eyes and look at your watch. Damn, it's 2:45 and 
the library closes at four.  You get up, regain what little sense of 
balance you have, find what you believe to be your shoes and head 
for the library.

It's now 6pm and you were lucky enough to find the books for your 
essay. You head home, and decide that you will start the outline. 
Half way through you get a call that the "gang" is going to a movie 
and it start's in an hour. You foolishly decide to go. Trying 
figuring it will be a great treat to yourself if you can just get as 
much of the outline as possible before you leave.

Sunday morning rolls around and you get up and are determined to at 
least start the essay, when you realize that the outline you wrote 
is completely off topic.

You decide that you've but a enough work into this for one weekend 
and end up doing something that could be counter product to you 
later in life, but what the heck, you're going to live for today.

For some unknown reason you missed out on the first half of the week 
and life is now filled with the stress of regular home work and this 
major paper hanging over your head which is due Friday.

At lunch you manage to get the outline finish and surprisingly get 
it look over by the teacher. She is very impress and looks forward 
to reading you final essay. No pressure right?

Wednesday fades and gives way to Thursday. You get to school bright 
and early feel confident that during the course of the day will have 
time to start the paper that your teacher is so looking forward too. 
As usually, every time you try to get anywhere you are interrupted 
by a friend who asks what you are doing (duh!?) or a teacher says 
"This is not the time and place to be playing catch up young man, 
please focus on the work at hand." Of course you oblige the teacher, 
until they've turned their back. 

Thursday evening: you find yourself in a panic trying to get your 
regular work done so you can focus the essay too which through no 
fault of your own, have cause a great expectation from you teacher. 
Because face it you know it and your teacher knows it, you have bad 
time management skills, not unlike every other student.

Regular homework aside, you now have started working on your essay, 
it's 9:30. Do you know where your parents are? They're in the living 
room talking and on the spur of a moment decide that now, yes NOW, 
would be a great time to have a family meeting. With your mother 
promising you, "Oh, dear, this will only take a moment." Yeah right.

It's now 10pm, and it's time for the 10pm, night before the essay, 
oh my God I'm dead, pleading to God ritual. "God, please give me one 
more day. I know a screwed up, just one more day! I promise I'll 
never do it again". 

Hopeful thoughts of wishing that your teacher would be sick 
tomorrow, or even better that you would contract an "actual" illness 
that would give you a doctors note, giving you the time to recover 
and, oh yeah, finish the essay for Monday morning.

It's Friday morning and by some miracle you managed to have a proof 
read finish product to give to your awaiting teacher. You carefully 
put it in a binder so that it does not get crushed. You head to your 
first class and all is well, except for the two big bags under eyes 
that cry out to "those who know"; I WAS UP AND JUST FINISHED MY 
ESSAY, AND I'M HERE!

On your way to second period, a familiar sound fills the air, it's 
the fire alarm. Speculations of who might have done it fill the 
halls. Teachers running around cursing how it's the (pick a 
number)th time this month. Every one is told to leave in an orderly 
fashion. 

The principal is fuming by this point and wants to get to the bottom 
of this. In his eagerness to find the guilty party, he save you the 
agony of having to live the torment of handing in the essay you 
slaved over and getting that "I know" look from your teacher. 

The rest of the afternoon is cleared and all students are required 
to attend a presentation in the auditorium of how this is bad for 
everyone and if you know the guilty party it is your "duty" to come 
forward and report this, etc. etc.

As life goes on you think back of those times when we all thought 
"life was good" and realize the hell we all went through just to be 
who we are, doing what we enjoy most, 

What ever it maybe.....

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

3. "Turkey Toss"
by IMPROV

When our exhualted leader approached me about contributing an 
article related to the wonderful world of school my initial reaction 
was to write a paper with really bad spelling, even worse than 
normal grammar, and just rip apart my high school English teachers.  
You see I hated English, which is odd for someone who is neither 
scientifically endowed nor mathematically inclined.  I failed Grade 
twelve English twice, but now...for some strange reason in 
UNIVERSITY it's my strong point, and by far my favourite course.  
Hmmm... strange... could it be that I didn't do so well in high 
school because I called the head of the English department a "fat 
useless bitch"? Could it be that teachers are, indeed, humans and 
hold grudges?  But that is for another time and another rant...by 
the way for those of you who read my articles normally, Werden...is 
a perfect example of a WASTE OF FLESH!!! (a huge waste).

	But enough of that, I have something a little different to 
talk about.  School encompasses many different things, but perhaps 
the most important aspect of school, to the students, is the social 
aspect.  Well if not most students at least mine.  So this is my 
first year in university, as well as my girlfriend's.  I'm going 
part time and she full time...just to give you a little background.  
During FROSH week I was in New York City...so I missed all the "fun" 
get to know you, get drunk, get laid, good clean fun of these 
festivities.  No big deal.  My girlfriend and I have been together 
for over a year, I trust her...even if she hasn't been a big 
drinker...even if she's never been out to a bar with friends...even 
if she thinks the best of everyone...ANYHOW, I really do trust her, 
it's the drunken asses of the University of Toronto that I do not... 
but I'm in NYC, what can I do?   No matter, nothing drastic happened 
in the manner of guys being too forward, with the exception of the 
rockin' fourth year guy who invites my girlfriend back to the frat 
house... but reassured her to, "not worry, we can't go after frosh 
until midnight."  And as far as I know she didn't go... the
investigation is still pending... I'm kidding dear... hehehe... ummm

	But believe it or not, I'm still not to the point I wanted to 
make.  Since starting university, my better half has been introduced 
to the term "Turkey Toss".  For those of you who are ignorant to the 
term, such as I was, this refers to the phenomenon of breaking up 
with your boy/girlfriend before Thanksgiving when starting higher 
education.  There are other gentlemen in her life who claim to have 
pools on such events...the guys at her work, I think they are 
banking on it...what's with this all about...I'm paranoid enough as 
it is...I don't need assholes spurning on my beliefs!
You know you think that guys would back each other up...but no 
freakin' way, it's like a savannah out there...I've gotta butt heads 
with every other guy out there just to keep them away.  Well I'm 
glad to say that as I write this it's Thanksgiving weekend, and thus 
far all is well...that's all I'm going to say...I don't want to jinx 
it!

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

4.  I Dropped My Pen...Time for a Killing Spree

By Jason MacIsaac 

It's the little things.

When bad things happen, I mean really bad things, the human brain 
has a built in defense.  Get fired?  Found out someone murdered your 
family?  Caught a raging disease that will slowly kill and give you 
excessive flatulence?  No problem.  Such life-shattering events are 
too much for the brain to handle, so it doesn't even try.  

A kind of numbness sets in.  Few people, when they find out they're 
now an orphan, or a widow, or a widower, start wailing right there 
and then.  Your first reaction is a kind of stunned stare.  The 
first thought in your head will be "I can't believe it."  And 
really, you can't.  It's precisely this reaction that prevents you 
from going totally nuts.  Oh, you might experience a kind of minor 
insanity--I know people who have gone through stuff like having been 
betrayed by their loved one, lost their job, found out they owe $54, 
000 in taxes, and that the state of Atlanta is getting a hockey 
team.  All in the space of about 45 minutes.  What did he do? He had 
a giggling fit.  His whole life crumbled in the time it takes for 
his favorite pizzeria to deliver a hot n' spicy one.  And he was 
laughing.  This temporary insanity is what saves you from permanent 
insanity, the kind of insanity that makes people from Reichs and 
stuff like that.

The human soul can't handle heavy trauma, so your brain breaks it 
into you in segments.  Spreads it out so you can handle it.  You 
will cry and howl and demand "Why?  Why?  Why?" but it will be 
spaced out so that you can gradually recover.  It takes awhile, and 
while you're going through it you think this is the worst possible 
thing, but trust your brain, it's smarter than you are.  It'll pull 
you through, just give it time.

Unless you get hit by little things.

This whole healing process is extremely delicate.  And ironically, 
you can take as much heavy trauma as the world can dish out.  But... 
add one little thing, and you snap.

Little things are actually anything but.  These are the things that 
cause people to lose it, and go over the edge.  That's why a person 
can jog merrily along knowing their lover has been having an affair 
with their Saint Bernard, their best friend secretly planted cocaine 
on them and called the cops, and the local revenue service is 
considering selling off their organs in order to cover old debts.  A 
person going through that may be depressed, but will go on nicely.  
But suddenly, add to that the fact the person in cubicle behind them 
at work drained the pot of coffee without setting a new one brewing, 
bang.  Homicide.

Those little things are what's getting you by.  Okay, so you're 
unloved, unemployed, unwanted.  Big deal.  There's only one last 
nice cold bottle of your favourite beer waiting patiently for you 
when you get home.  Everything is okay because of that one bottle of 
beer.  Hell, have the mob put a contract out on you.  Have the 
government outlaw oxygen.  Have an alien species bent on the 
destruction of the human race invade the planet right now.  Give 
another hockey team to Texas.  That won't change the fact that 
there's one cold bottle of your favourite beer in your fridge right 
now.

You open the door, and spot your roommate laying on your couch, 
picking his nose, and in his hand is a half empty bottle of beer.

Your beer.  

This is the kind of thing that inspires you to acts of violence and 
cruelty that has Freddy Krueger saying "Whoa, that wasn't very 
nice."

Check the papers.  Whenever there's a mass killing, you often find 
out that thing that triggered the killer's rampage was something 
incredibly stupid--like the fact that his computer crashed just as 
he was about to beat level 12.  You think "How senseless!" but in 
fact it makes perfect sense.  The killer was managing the serious 
stuff, but take away that one respite, one break, one source of 
pleasure, and the boundaries of sanity are gone.  As long as your 
little thing remains intact, you're fine.  Pile on the trauma, who 
cares?  But take away that little thing, that bottle of beer, your 
favorite CD, and it's postal time.

Like what happened to me yesterday.  

I've been through the wringer lately.  Sparing you the gory details, 
my job has been hassling, and I was supposed to get married in a few 
days, but instead I'm a not-so swinging bachelor again.  I was going 
through the usual healing process.  Yes it hurt, but my brain was 
working diligently on getting me through it.

But yesterday, I was at work.  I was carrying my favorite pen.  I 
went to the washroom, and I had my pen in my back pocket.

As I flushed and stood, the pen fell out of my pocket.

Into the toilet.  

Initially I panicked--I thought it was gone for good.  But it lodged 
in the bowl and didn't go down.  I fished it out and was 
considerably relieved.

Then it occurred to me.

I am notorious for chewing on my pens.

It's a habit that will always be with me.  And I knew that there was 
no way that I could remember every time where this pen had been.  
Sooner or later, it would slip my mind, at least until the moment my 
teeth clamped down on that pen.

Oh, I could wash it, but there would always be the memory.  I had no 
choice.

This pen was perfect for me.  Hard rubber at the end to endure my 
constant gnawing, a clip that could removed and used to scratch your 
eardrums.  It had a firm, tough point that was great for puncturing 
packages and tearing away cellophane. 

And I had to throw it out.

Up until then, I was fine.  Wounded, but walking.  Then I dropped my 
favourite pen in the toilet.

Two minutes later, everyone on the upper floor of my work was dead.

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

5.  School
By Jeff Wright

15 years.  Is that really a long time?  Why yes I do believe 
it is.  What could you do that would require 15 years to complete?  
I really couldn't tell you.  But "THE MAN" (hehehe) seems to think 
that 15 years is the minimum you should spend in school, getting 
your education (This is for Ontario.  We've got OAC/Grade 13.).  

If you've completed your public schooling, like myself, you 
will no doubt know that it was a giant waste of time.  Now I'm not 
saying that education is bad.  Actually I think it's a terrific 
thing.  Once I upgrade my OAC marks (Yeah, I've technically 
graduated, but I can't quite get free) I plan on going to 
university.  There I can learn about things I want to.  Things that 
are going to be useful in my life.  Think of how many pointless 
nuggets of information you have on that brain of yours thanks to 
public schooling.  That 15 year education that was supposed to be 
crucial to the way you live.  

If you want a job at McDonald's (hehehe), you don't need a 
high school education.  If you want a job at the space program, you 
do need a high school education.  Now I see your confusion, let me 
get to my point.  You obviously don't need to know all of the stuff 
you were taught in high school to flip burgers at The Golden Arches.  
Then why do you need all of that knowledge to join the space 
program?  You don't need to know about Shakespeare to orbit the 
moon, do you?  Shakespeare is about as useful to an astronaut as it 
is to that old woman working at McDonald's at the age of 68 because 
she doesn't have a pension (and deep down secretly, she loves the 
attention that comes with being named "Employee Of The Month").  Why 
do we have to go through this shit to get on with the important part 
of our lives?  Why can't we start our specialized, university 
education without good marks in high school?  High school is holding 
me back.  I know I can do damn well at what I want to do, but I 
can't further educate myself in a formal manner because my high 
school grades aren't the greatest.  Why the FUCK is that?!?!?!  

A NOTE FROM ME:

I think this piece was supposed to be funny, and make fun of 
school, but I had to get that off my chest.  I hope it's not held 
against me.  To make up for the serious turn, I'll provide you with 
a joke.  And on top of that, I'll even make it up.  The following is 
a brand, spanking new joke (I'm going to think now, you won't notice 
the lapse in time, so that's why this sentence is here. It's just so 
you appreciate it better).

Okay, here's the joke:

Some guy comes up to me on the street and asks me if I'd mind 
taking a couple minutes to answer a survey.  Myself, being the 
friendly bloke that I am, say sure, sit down and prepare to answer.
-What did you have for breakfast today?
-A couple Eggo's with syrup.
	-What colour is the underwear you're wearing?
-White.
	-Do you have a television?
-Yes.
	-Can you name all of the American presidents?
-Nope.
	-What's your favourite music group?
-Um. The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion.
	-Do you drink coffee in the morning?
-Nope.
	-How many siblings do you have?
-One.  Can I ask you what this is for?  None of these questions have 
anything in common.  They seem like random, meaningless questions.  
What's this for?
	-School.

	Well whada ya know.  I even got to make it relate to the 
article, even though it was just a part of the article in the form 
of a joke.  Oh well.  I'll let this piece stay as it is, since I go 
on these little rants and if I took them out, I'd lose a lot of 
text.  

See ya, and thanks for reading,
	Jeff Wright

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


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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
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