       ___________ __              _______                         
       \__    ___/|  |__   ____    \      \   ____  ____           
         |    |   |  |  \_/ __ \   /   |   \_/ __ \/  _ \   ______ 
         |    |   |   Y  \  ___/  /    |    \  ___(  <_> ) /_____/ 
         |____|   |___|  /\___  > \____|__  /\___  >____/
                       \/     \/          \/     \/
       _________                 __        __
       \_   ___ \  ____   _____ |__| _____/  |_  ___________  ____  
       /    \  \/ /  _ \ /     \|  |/    \   __\/ __ \_  __ \/    \ 
       \     \___(  <_> )  Y Y  \  |   |  \  | \  ___/|  | \/   |  \
        \______  /\____/|__|_|  /__|___|  /__|  \___  >__|  |___|  /
               \/             \/        \/          \/           \/ 
.......... ......... ........ ....... ...... ..... .... ... .. .  .   .    .
   .   .  . . .. ... .... ..... ...... ....... ........ ......... ..........

    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  1 2 6

                         We Are the New International
                         October 29th, 2000
                         Editor: BMC
                                             Writers:
                                        Junior Haagis
                                                  BMC

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 ;P                      Featured in this installment                      .b
 $                                                                          $
 $             The Secret Origin Files (Part Four) - Junior Haagis          $
 $                          The 1st Concept - BMC                           $
 `q                                                                        p'
   `nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn'

                               EDITOR'S NOTE

        I don't know if there are any loose ends or not, but I'm going to
tie knots in everything that I see until I am satisfied.

        That's not important.  With installment 126 we are moving into a new
era.  In fact, it would be better described as an age.  Much like the
mesozoic age, this will last for roughly 155,000,000 years or 25 issues,
whichever comes first.  But baby, we've got the power now.  We've got, like,
enough gold and jewels.  We're satisfied, but like the Bodhisattavas there
ain't no stoppin us now.  That's all I need to say.

        WhooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOO oh and Halloween.  That's good too.


  d""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""b.
 ;P                   THE SECRET ORIGIN FILES (PART FOUR)                  .b
 `q                            by Junior Haagis                            p'
   `nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn'

                       Tonite's Episode - PROJECT TITAN

                          PART IV - TO SERVE HAAGIS
               aka - EPISODE NINE - PLANIMAL ATTACKS!! - ACT ONE


87 months and six days into our voyage, we're but mere hours from Titan.  The
anticipation is heightened only by my total fear of our mission commander,
Capt. Dave.  Four times this week already I've awakened in my stasis tube to
find him spooning with me in tight embrace.  When I attempt to cry out or
bolt, he puts what feels like a spork to my back and whispers, "..when I'm
finished."

There's not much else to tell about the last seven years, except when we
were passing by Jupiter, there was a subplot involving our main computer
going paranoid, a dark and mysterious geometric shape, and the celestial
fetus of an alien super-being turning ever so slighty and smiling.  But as
it happened, we really never expressed much interest in it.  It was kind of
a bother, and there really is no point in elaborating on it.  Besides, this
installment's got PLANIMAL in it!!

Firing our retros, we slow our approach on Saturn.  As the ringed gas giant
looms ever larger in our view screen, I contemplate killing Capt. Dave
before we reach Titan's surface.  Several reasons are forcing my hand to do
so.  A few others really get me giggling on the subject.  I finally pull
back from the notion.

        A: Because he might actually know how land this craft and
        B: Nothing can kill Capt. Dave.

A few facts about Titan.  It's the only moon in the solar system with a
methane atmosphere, has a thick covering of nitrogen smog, and constantly
rains gasoline in sub-zero temperatures.  Look it up.  I shit you not.

Coming around Saturn's far-side, our navigational array centers itself on a
bright orange planetoid that glows unwavering like a vasoline soaked piglet
floating effortlessly in front of a 100 watt bulb.

What?

Packing an overnight bag of moistened towlettes, kraft dinner, and pomade,
my mind races through the endless possibilities of opening, historic
statements that I might unleash for the millions of my kind, and which will
signal the dawn of a new ruling era of alternative, sentient life.
Meanwhile Capt. Dave, with savage fury, scissors his way into our life
support systems with a multi-headed, eight-wheeled, industrial agricultural
vehicle.  Inquiring on his intentions, he simply replies that he's just
going through his final checklist.

Happy just to be there, our undercarriage opens.  Hopefully to reveal sexy
heat-sheild that will safely procure us into Titan's upper atmosphere.
Instead, a wooden plank unveiling a fiery banner with the word 'POOF'
extends for all to see.  Obviously, the boys from R&D in the Comet company
like the classics, and they picked this crucial time to make this clever
point.  Now Capt. Dave is on fire, along with most of the bridge.  Me, I'm
whippin' out moist towlettes like diarrhea.

We begin to spin-out, and the golly-wiggers are off the meter on the golly-
wigger meter.

"There's euphoria in this incendiary experience, you just gotta clinch it
right.  Here..!" quips Capt. Dave, while tossing flaming portions of himself
onto my lap.

"Quit it, you nub!!" I retort.  "Hey, hit the fire suppressant system on
your left there!"

*BTW - Fire suppressant systems mean absolutley dick in an environment that
rains gasoline.  Especially OUR fire suppressant system.

At 15 thousand feet, Capt. Dave begins to bite overcooked morsels out his
own arms.  Fortunately, I'm a disgusting Scottish delicacy, and have never
had the urge to eat me.  Out of blurred vision, I see the tower-tops of a
Titian cityscape rushing up to meet us.  I dart here and fro in search of
some sort of contigency device to save us.  And then suddenly, our
salvation!  Unsheafing a tank marked 'ELIXIR' under a pile of tenure, I yank
it's throw cord, and from it spews forth a mauve colored smoke.  Out of this
smoke springs forth the champion of justice and liberty and peace and lost
loves and the one-hour oil change...

'Super Geisha'!!!

"I'll save your bacon!" echoes from pretty kabuki mouth.

Underarm, we are flown from the flaming remnants of the spacecraft with
hardly time to spare.  Our ships explodes into a firestorm just 200 feet
from the surface.

"Bad day to be flying, eh chums?!" says Super Geisha, giggling sweetly all
through the sentence.

"What the fuck are you?!" says Capt. Dave.

"Super Geisha!  Say there, sports, can I interest you gentlemen in some
concubine sex?"

"No thanks," I say, "We'd appreciate it though if you could set us down in
that town square where that crowd gathers."

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING OOOOONNNNN?!!!" screams Capt. Dave.

After ascending into the town square, Super Geisha returns into the tank
from whence he came.  The outskirts of the square is like a multitude of my
own mirror image.  The creatures are curious, frightened.  Capt. Dave smells
their fear and it seems to calm him down just like his trainer's leathered
palm.

The moment grows cold.  I better start the show.  I gesture thusly with my
right.

"Greetings!  I bring you the strife of conquest, the infestation of new and
unknown illness, and a four-footed beast of burden known to us as a CORGI!"

Silence.  Why the hell didn't that work?  Then I recall the dream and a
certain aspect missing from this moment.  Digging into my satchel, I produce
a chapeau.  With over-sized bill, and ear-flaps that tie under the chin, I
don the 'Bullshit Protector'.

"Hm. Bullshit Protector," says Capt. Dave.

"The Template!" says an onlooker, "The sign that he is the Template!"

The crowd hurries forward.  My arms outstretch to accept the warmth.
Seeing the moment of caring making it's way toward him, Capt. Dave burrows
his face into the acidic Titian earth to lose himself from the moment.  But
as they draw near, instead of a Kodak moment, a barrage of black-jacks
strike at all angles of my head, until after about 30 seconds, I fall
unconscious.

Hours later, I come-to in a hellish environment.  Humid, sultry.  The air
is like fire with every inhale.  The surroundings come to focus.  I see
lush foliage like in the jungles.  All about me is abundant plant life that
seems to move and laugh like small children.  Looking down, I observe that
my torso is tied-down to what looks like a sacrificial tablet.  Then from
out of the laughter comes a malevolent but familiar voice.

"I didn't think you'd arrive this early, my boy!"

Craning my aching neck towards this presence, my eyes spy a demonic
arrangement of petals that I had seen many times before.

"PLANIMAL!" I notice.

"Your resiliance to the assault from your offspring is quite impressive," he
growls.

"Not really.  My girly complex takes a little more time than others to shine
through, but then after...offspring?!!  My..offspring?!!"

"Yessssss!" he ponces, "Offspring.  Seven and half-million offspring.
Cloned from a single genetic string I took from you while you tried on a
pair of chinos at 'Banana Republic'."

"The check-out girl..."

"Was my daughter... Mr. Kenetic!!!"

"Mr. Kenetic..your..daughter?!!..Wait!!  I don't give a shit!  Why did you
clone me?!!

"Well, when my adopted father, Cog, awakened me from my millienium-long
sleep and brought me out of the darkest bowels of the Filimangari, he was
determined to teach me tolerence, and peace, and the sanctity of the
communist belief.  As you know I refused his love, and embraced my savage
botanical lifestyle.  But out of all the flesh, and from all the many
creatures I did feast upon for sustenance, yours was the most satisfying,..
the most..nourishing."

"My tummy-tuck!  That was you!"

"Yesss!  And I ached for more.  So much so that I created an entire society
of your kind, far from the reaches of your humanitarian laws, where I can
can gorge myself on an endless supply of..YOU!!"

"Ya bastard," I say.

FIN!


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 ;P                              THE 1ST CONCEPT                           .b
 `q                                   by BMC                               p'
   `nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn'

During the last couple of years I have had about a dozen ideas that I have
considered to be so grand or abstract that they can not possibly be
described in words.  Tonight I feel brave enough to make a textual voyage
into a world that I can only describe as "a world".  That is the only way I
can describe it at this point, because I am not fully certain if there are
any words in the English language that can truly capture its essence.  Yes,
and I'm just talking about the WORLD that the concept exists in, not even
the thought itself!  The concept is so amazing that if I ever develop a word
to describe it, said word will have to be analyzed by linguists from all
different countries and walks of life.  In fact, I believe it will take a
cross-section of the etymological society to determine the semantics of it,
and even then there is no guarantee of their success!  This word might not
even make sense to me, and since it is derived from the concept it is
possible that the word will be impossible to read, write, pronounce, hear,
or otherwise comprehend.  It may, by necessity, have to be an anti-word.

I am telling you all of this for the sole purpose of drawing your attention
to my noble cause.  I urge you to find the passion within yourself to follow
me on this treacherous path, but at the same time I must warn you that if
you read on I will not be held responsible for severe neural injury or
perhaps even death.  Yes, you are at a great risk, but I must admit that you
are also at risk of enlightenment.  My theory can lead you to a higher level
of consciousness, and I say this with confidence because I know for a fact
that it has had this result on others.  If you are willing to risk dramatic
self-improvement, then, and only then, should you read on.

If you are still reading it is because you desire to reach the highest level
of consciousness.  I commend you on your ambition and bravery.  That's
really great of you.

But I forget what I was going to talk about.

I think it had something to do with the theory of knowledge... or something.

Bye.

                                              
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    ___________________________________________________         
   |THE COMINTERN IS AVAILIABLE ON THE FOLLOWING BBS'S |
   |~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|
   | BRING ON THE NIGHT                 (306) 373-4218 |
   | CLUB PARADISE                      (306) 978-2542 |
   | THE GATEWAY THROUGH TIME           (306) 373-9778 |
   |___________________________________________________|
   |   Website at: http://members.home.com/comintern   |
   |           Email BMC at: thebmc@home.com           |
   |___________________________________________________|

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 Copyright 2000 by The Neo-Comintern                           #126-10/29/00

All content is property of The Neo-Comintern.
You may redistribute this document, although no fee can be charged and the
content must not be altered or modified in any way.  Unauthorized use of any
part of this document is prohibited.  All rights reserved.  Made in Canada.

