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                                                                `b
    t h e  n e o - c o m i n t e r n   e l e c t r o n i c  m a g z i n e
                  I n s t a l l m e n t    N u m b e r  8 0

         WE ARE THE 5th INTERNATIONAL - LANOITANRETNI ht5 EHT ERA EW
                   October 22nd, 1999 - 9991 ,dn22 rebotcO
                          Editor: BMC - CMB :rotidE
                             Writers: - :sretirW
                                  Cog - goC
                            Komrade B - B rdarmoK
                                  BMC - CMB

                   
  d""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""b.
 ;P                     Featured in this installment                       .b
 $                                                                          $
 $       How To Eliminate Unemployment In Eastern Canada- Cog and BMC       $
 $                   Voyage From Atlantis c.viii-  Komrade B                $
 `q                                                                        p'
   `nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn'

                               EDITOR'S NOTE

        What can be said?  I am proud of this issue!  Well, actually that is
not completely tue.  I am much more proud of the first article than I am
about the second one.  Maybe that is because the second article is nothing
but a series of humiliations that I suffer at the cruel hands of Komrade B.
He is cruel.  I'm not proud anymore, I'm just mad.  Fick.


  d""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""b.
 ;P            HOW TO ELIMINATE UNEMPLOYMENT IN EASTERN CANADA             .b
 `q                            by Cog and BMC                              p'
   `nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn'

        Every year hundreds of thousands of Maritime fishermans are
unemployed, and nearly half a million people are sitting in their basements,
listening to Ashley MacIssac and crying.  They sit there pining for the
chance to reverse the decision that thrust Canada's enemy (the maritimes)
into the Canadian confederation in the 1970's.

        It seems that although the fish swim free in the boundless ocean,
these fishermen do not.  In fact, they do not do anything.  Ten months of
the year these people are as an untapped well just waiting to be pumped.  If
only someone could come up with a way to keep these good folk as busy and
miserable as they are the rest of the year...

        So why not force them to work all year round?  It seems to work with
prisons and concentration camps, so why not apply the same physics to the
fisherman?  Jesus had this idea in about 0 AD when fishing limits were
created for the Dead Sea, so he took some 13 unemployed guys and made them
"fishers of men."  One was under the legal weight, though, so they had to
throw him back and drown hin (and kill him).  Then there were 12 apostles,
just like the 12 months per year that our fishermen will be forced/allowed
to work.  No less, no more.

        "But how do we do it," asked Liberal MP Herb Gray in a recent
parlimentary session.  The answer is simple.  We do it with the introduction
of "MerryTimes" (a clever play on the word "Maritimes"), a region-wide
amusement park spanning every square inch of land and water in the four
maritime provinces.  The forests will be felled, the mountains crushed, and
houses will be destroyed to make this, the "Park of Parks."

        "But just imagine the FUCKING tourism it would create," said Prime
Minister Jean Chretien.

        Aside from standard rides, such as the "ferris wheels" and the
"bumper car," they would feature haunted houses and ghost towns (where the
people used to eat and sleep until they were allowed to work 24 hours a day).
They would also have the underwater "Fish-Go-Round," where kids would hold
their breath for 5 minutes as they sit on a lawn chair nailed to a blue
whale.  This would be fun, and the parents could spend a romantic evening in
the Screech Gardens.  As the evening went on, the patrons would drink Screech
and watch a one-man show peformed by Screech.

        The sheer enormity of the park (nearly a million square miles) would
undoubtedly draw tourists from around the globe.  It might take a few years
for word to get out, mind you, because the impossible sum of money to be
used in building the park would leave nothing for advertising.  Upon
realizing this, park officials have created the "Tell a Friend" program.

        Under "Tell a Friend" legislation, a visitor to the park will be
detained in a windowless cell.  The visitor will not be allowed any food,
water, or permission to discharge urine.  The room will be furnished with
nothing but a phone that features unlimited long distance calling.  Then the
patron can call friends, family, etc., and convince them to travel to
MerryTimes.  The customer will not be allowed to leave until the friend has
arrived, and to increase the suffering they will be forced to listen to a
MIDI of "Fortune Teller" by Bobby Curtola at a decibel level exceeding human
comprehension.  Upon the friend's arrival at the park, the prisoner will be
free to leave after a stern beating, a removal of all personal belongings,
and a complete shaving of body hair.

        After a few years of this, business will start to pick up.  It is
projected, though, that it may take up to 40 years for the business to
begin to thrive.  Until then, business is expected to be slow, and the
company may actually lose money in the first few years when they are running
empty rides, non-stop, 24 hours a day.  The park will have to be government
subsidized in what one electrical engineer refers to as, "the greatest
misuse of power since John F. Kennedy's presidency."  This will "put us off a
few strokes," as the philosophists say, but when we work our way out of it
the rewards will be that much sweeter.

        Another feature of the park will be the sale of trinkets and candy.
After riding the "Old Fishernman's Bouncing Knee," you can reward yourself
with some salt water taffy, sea salt and vinegar chips, and a tall, cool
glass of salt water.  Canada's economy will boom and we can finally begin
production on the three cent coin.

        Oh fuck.  I just thought of something else.  The fisher-men are only
unemployed during the winter.  This could cause a problem.  And because it
would be difficult to guess at what kinds of difficulties this would cause,
we fired up the old time machine and leapt 10 years into the future.

        We spent a day in MErryTimes and it was (to our surprise) a Great
DeliGhT!  The atmosphere was lovely.  Grizzled, miserable-looking fishermen
were everywhere.  Some were even holding signs that said funny things like
"Help," "Suicide," and "BEWARE!"

        Cog went straight for the "Fish-Zipper" (which was just like the
regular Zipper, but it smelled like fish and tasted like chicken).  "Imagine
the thrill of riding the Zipper in minus 40 degree weather," exclaimed Cog
as he boarded and the door was padlocked.  He licked the restraint bar and
got his tongue stuck, and then he gave us the thumbs-up sign as the ride
started.  As the gears started turning, legend has it that a scream was
heard.  It seems like a Zipper running in conditions like that generates a
wind-chill of like 5000 or something.  When the ride came to a stop, a pry
bar was used to remove Cog from his personal winter hell.  His lips were
blue and his eyes were glazed, so we drew lots to see whether or not we
would give him CPR.  Komrade B won, so we set him ablaze, and he promptly
awoke.

        While this was happening, BMC snuck away to go on his favorite ride,
the "Fish-Go-Round."  The pond was frozen over, so he just sat on top of
the ice in the fetal position and shivered.  This made the whale mad, and it
climbed out of the ice and told him to leave.  Suddenly the ice broke, and
BMC went under.  A few hours later we recovered his body, and though he
wanted to do it again we wouldn't let him.  It was nearly 4:00, and Gnarly
Wayne was steaming because he wasn't drunk.

        While Gnarly Wayne headed to the Screech Gardens, Komrade B struck
out on his own as well.  He went to the "Fish Pond," and when he arrived he
was met by the Minister of Fiusheries (Herb Gray), who told him that since
the prizes were being depleted faster than they could be replenished, a
limit of one try per year had been imposed.  Since it took 3 wins to qualify
for the big prize, Komrade B bought a ticket and gave it his all!  He caught
a minnow- 3 points!  While he waited for his second try he decided to check
out the haunted houses.

        Everybody else was having fun, and Gnarly Wayne was in the Screech
gardens.  He drank Screech until he passed out, and then he was drugged and
sodomized by Screech.

        The next morning we all awoke in a cell together.  Gnarly Wayne was
drunk and throwing up, Komrade B was covered in blood and human feces, Cog
was breathing shallowly, and BMC was alert and ready to face the day.  We
attempted to get back to the time machine, but we were informed that we
must take part in the "Tell a Friend" program.  We didn't know anyone in the
future, so we just dialed random numbers while the swinging sounds of
"Fortune Teller" gently mocked us.

        A few months later, we finally got someone to help us out of there,
and we went back to the time machine to come back to 1999.

The End

        (P.S. Some vandals broke the time machine so we had to walk back)

                                                                            
  d""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""b.
 ;P                   VOYAGE FROM ATLANTIS (chapter viii)                  .b
 `q                              by Komrade B                              p'
   `nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn'

        As failure after failure added up and BMC's constant harassments were
starting to wear on the crown prince. Kilimanjaro was a chance to set it all
straight.

        Those caves are located near the ruined city of Ry'leh and are said
to be home to the foulest of sea creatures including giant squids. Remenants
of the Juniper invasion had come to settle in those dusky crags under the
stern rule of warlord Emperor Jenghis Khan.

        Jenghis was an enemy of the crown and had on many occaisions caused
the royal court of Atlantis undo grief. The Marquis new his weakness and had
exploited it on several occasions. For Jenghis craved one on one sword duels,
and Prince Komrade B was the finest swordsman in the galaxy.

        Plans sifted through B's mind as he planned for his battle. Although
at this point it must seem to you the reader that BMC serves no purpose
whatsoever in this quest. Rest assured he will play a very critical role. One
in which he is very adept.

        After driving perfectly to the Caves of Kilimanjaro. B backed handed
his brother and reminded him of the price of failure.

        "Your charge of these missions has met with complete failure on
         several occasions. Now do as I say, and do not fail me lest
         my blade pierce your flesh instead of spanking your backside."

        BMC winced at the thought of those public humiliations at the hands
of his gallant brother. To this day no mermaiden in Atlantis can talk to the
cmb without giggling.

        As they approached the caves they saw there first signs of the enemy.
BMC did as told and stood silently and grimly awaited his task. B raised his
hand and bellowed.

        "Halt foul Junipers I come calling quarter to Jenghis and bespeak a
challange him to a sword duel. I have observed the warriors right of passage
and bring a token of that right."

        With that BMC sobbed and looked longingly at his brother, but he would
 see no pity there. Father needed them to suceed and BMC's rather mean spirited
 attitude were more then unbearable. This would do him some good anyways.

        As the guards took his brother away he could not help but shake his
 head at the strange custom observed by every creature in the sea, and which
 he himself had taken part in as custom demanded. As is tradition in the sea
 all visitors must offer a gift of sodomy to the host and this was such an
 occasion.

        Alas with thoughts on his poor brother. B got lost and ended up back
 at the boat. To embarrased to go talk to the guards he waited inside until
 BMC came back and they were forced to leave......


.d&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&b.
    ___________________________________________________
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 .d&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&b.
 Copyright 1999 by The Neo-Comintern                            #80-10/22/99

All content is property of The Neo-Comintern.
You may redistribute this document, although no fee can be charged and the
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