  nnnnnn nnn                nnn   nnn
  $ $$ $  $$                  $$b   $
    $$    $$nd$b  .d$$b.      $`$b  $  .d$$b. .d$$b.
    $$    $$  $$  $$  $$      $ `$b $  $$  $$ $$  $$  nnn
    $$    $$  $$  $$""""      $  `$b$  $$"""" $$  $$  """
   nSSn  nSSi SSn "Sbnn"     nSn  `SS  "Sbnn" "SbdS"


  .nP"=$$                      $P          nnn                          TM
  $$   ""                     `n'          n$$nnn 
  $$      .d$$b. $$$nd$bnd$b  nnn  $$$nd$b  $$    .d$$b. $$$nd$b $$$nd$b
  $$      $$  $$  $$  $$  $$   $$   $$  $$  $$    $$  $$  $$  S$  $$  $$
  $$   i$ $$  $$  $$  $$  $$   $$   $$  $$  $$    $$""""  $$      $$  $$
  "SbndS" "SbdS" nSSi SSn SSn nSSi nSSi SSn "Sbn" "Sbnn" nSSi    nSSi SSn

.......... ......... ........ ....... ...... ..... .... ... .. .  .   .    .
   .   .  . . .. ... .... ..... ...... ....... ........ ......... ..........

    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 0 8

         LANOITANRETNI ht5 EHT ERA EW - WE ARE THE 5th INTERNATIONAL
                       0002 ,ht82 yaM - May 28th, 2000
                          CMB :rotidE - Editor: BMC
                             :sretirW - Writers:
                                  goC - Cog
                         enyaW ylranG - Gnarly Wayne
                                  CMB - BMC


  d""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""b.
 ;P                      Featured in this installment                      .b
 $                                                                          $
 $                         Bouncers or Drones?- Cog                         $
 $         A Tribute to the Ignorance of Cog- BMC and Gnarly Wayne          $
 `q                                                                        p'
   `nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn'

                               EDITOR'S NOTE

        Well Wayne and I were just sitting around being ignorant one day (as
usual), and we decided to kick back a couple ounces of pure energy to see
what would happen when we combined Neo-Comintern writing with a biased,
purely unintellectual response to an article that was written over two years
ago.  The result was "A Tribute to the Ignorance of Cog," which is pretty
much indistinguishable from everything else that we've released so far.  How
sad, how very sad... and beautiful at the same time.  Also, for your
CONVENIENCE we are including the tale that Cog wove back in issue 8 so you
don't have to download that zipfile.  Isn't that kind?  Anyway, this issue
is dedicated to our friend, ignorance (aka Cog).


  d""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""b.
 ;P                           BOUNCERS OR DRONES?                          .b
 $                                  by Cog                                  $
 `q             (Originally Presented in N-Com installment #8)             p'
   `nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn'

        These days, there is surely one large group of people which stand for
everything that I am against.  This group is intolerable, inhumane, and
immoral.  Yes, folks...I speak of bouncers.

        One would assume that a bouncer's job is simply to break up a fight
if and when it occurs, or to collect the cover charge...

        Wait.  Let's look at this whole "cover-charge" issue, first.  If I'm
not mistaken, a cover charge is for someone who does not intend to buy
anything once they're inside.  Why, then, do they extract said charge from
EVERY single would-be patron, regardless of whether they intend to purchase
anything?  If you ask me, I think -- no -- I KNOW that this charge is used
to fund the semi-secret Bouncer Alliance.  The organization must support
itself somehow, correct?

                STEP 1 - PAY NO COVER-CHARGE

        Now back to the issue at hand.  The bouncers mainly rely on their
physical appearance to intimidate us.  Failing that, they will use thinly
veiled threats of excessive violence.  What next?  Are they going to drag us
screaming from our homes in the dead of night?  Not if I can help it!

                STEP 2 - LOCK YOUR DOORS

        Let me share a tale about my brush with the Bouncers last night.  It
all started rather innocently, as a matter of actual fact.  A few friends and I
were going for a night out on the town, when we happened upon one specific
place.  Well, we thought, we might as well go here; it looks like quite a
fine establishment (FASCISM MAY LOOK GOOD ON THE OUTSIDE TO SOME, BUT BEWARE
ITS TEETH!).  We then proceeded up to the door.

        Upon entering, we were asked for a $2 cover charge.  I payed their
vulgar charge with coins...coins that I had personally soiled with my own
urine.  They are welcome to this money, I thought, as it symbolizes exactly
what the Bouncers are; the center of their organization is all about money,
while the part that we all encounter is made up of human waste and filth.  I
had sent my message while still paying their vulgar charge.  I would not be
beaten this night.  You see!  That is how they play the game.  INTIMIDATION.
The "pay what we say, or you will get hurt" mentality makes me sick.  

        Everything was going as it should up to this point.  That is, until
we were asked for identification.  I had my photo-identification card at the
ready, since I know that if you cannot prove to the bouncers beyond a shadow
of doubt who you really are, they will drag you kicking and screaming to the
Monster Labour Camps.  Believe me, I am in no hurry to end up there!

        But, wait!  Could it be?  Yes.  Oh, God yes.  One of my friends
DOESN'T have photo-identification!  The bouncer was slowly slithering up to
him at this point, and success for our side was imperitive!

        "Need to see some i.d., worm", the bouncer wheezed.

        "Sure.  Just don't abduct me after seeing my address, Bouncer", said
my friend in an obvious tone of disgust.  He is quite the sly one, making
stipulations so that it appears he has the upper-hand in the situation.

        He pulled his i.d. out of his wallet; a near-avalanche of cards, both
paper and plastic, spilled out onto the counter.  Each card bearing at least
two items:  his name, and his age.  Some were even imprinted with additional
information such as a short description, or an address.

        "Need photo i.d., worm", said the bouncer.

        You see, my friend doesn't go to the bar very often.  He doesn't know
that the bouncers are quite specific in their demands, and that those demands
must be met in full before an audience with the bartender is granted.  As a
result, he hadn't thought that photo-identificaion was a "must-have".  How
wrong he was.

        "Out", said the bouncer.

        What?  Had we come this far only to get beaten?  I assured the foul
bouncer that my friend was indeed the person on the identification cards.  No
use.  I proposed that if my friend could get the p.i.n. number on his bank
card correct, then he must be the person listed on the card.  It was of no
use.  Bouncers, it seems, are beings without reason.  Perhaps they are
nothing more than drones for some sort of Super-Bouncer.  I was in no hurry
to find out, so I proposed that we leave and form some sort of "plan B".

                             <time was passing...>

        We arrived back at the bar with a fresh plan in mind.  We had grabbed
anything we could find that paired my friend's picture with his name.
Yearbooks, student cards, anything.  We proudly walked up to the bouncer and
displayed what we had come up with, confident that victory was at hand.

                                 He laughed.

        We insisted that this was unrefutable photographic proof of who my
friend was.  We even pointed out the name on the student card, and compared
the name to my friend's other identification.  Although it matched, it
wouldn't convince the bouncer for some reason.  The "drone" theory was really
starting to take root.

        We noticed another bouncer that was traversing the bar had started
heading our way.  "Trouble", I thought.  The bouncer just came over and told
the other bouncer that we were to leave.  Obviously this bouncer was a
"higher-up", and it would seem that there was telepathy at work here.
Perhaps the bouncers aren't all that different from the lowly ant.  The only
difference being that the ant is noble, of course.

        Back to the car.  But...IT CAN'T BE!  IT WAS LOCKED...and we didn't
have the door key.  Out of the frying pan, as the saying goes.  We had to use
the phone in the bar.

        We walked back in, and behind us the walls were instantly riddled
with bullet-holes.  I made a grab for the phone...AND REACHED IT!  But it
promptly disintegrated.  At this point, a bald-headed fat bouncer was rushing
towards us.  His arms were covered in tatoos, which I imagine was supposed to
intimidate the average Yahoo.  On the contrary, it made him look quite like a
prison-bitch.  In light of this, I feared what he would do to me, so I left.
He was telling the rest that they had better leave "or else".

        We regrouped on the steps amid warnings that we had better get off of
the property.  But how could we?  The car was locked!  I had a plan!

        I unsheathed my bionic arm, and used it to extract the lock-peg from
its housing.  CLICK!  Victory.  The door was no longer locked, and likewise
we also were no longer locked in a battle for survival against the bouncer
colony.  We decided the best thing to do would be to go somewhere else.
Somewhere peaceful.  Somewhere that freedom prevails.  Somewhere that we may
talk openly about Communism and its benefits to society.  We went to Bud's on
Broadway, and sat down to some music and a cool, cool drink.

Then someone asked us for i.d.....


  d""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""b.
 ;P                    A TRIBUTE TO THE IGNORANCE OF COG                   .b
 `q                          by BMC and Gnarly Wayne                       p'
   `nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn'

        This is a st8-up retaliation to Cog's bafflingly ignorant article
"Bouncers or Drones?"  As with most of Cog's articles, there is a lot of
stupidity and dumb ideas in this article.  I haven't read the article yet,
and probably never will, but it is in issue #8 if you want to read it.
That's one hundred issues back.  Exactly.

        The semi-secret bouncer organization must support itself somehow,
correct?  INCORRECT.  Just as people can survive without any financial
support ever (ie Cog), so can the bouncer organization.  Just pay the
fucking cover charge you ghetto bastard.  Listen, maybe the problem is just
that you need to get a better job and some wealth and stop complaining about
your stupid convenience store.

        STEP 1 - Cog should shut his fucking mouth (or typing hand).  Maybe
you're just a dink everytime you go into a bar, but I've never had a bouncer
use any kinds of threats against me.  Probably because I'm nice.  If you
didn't treat them like drones, maybe they wouldn't pummel you on sight.  You
are so much higher than them, arent you, Cog?  Yeah, you work in a fucking
convenience store for Christ's sake.  I don't see bouncers writing articles
complaining about where they work. 

        As a matter of actual fact, the "FASCISM MAY LOOK GOOD ON THE
OUTSIDE" mentality makes me sick.  Does Cog even know what fascism is?
Apparently not, because he writes for a communist e-mag and he doesn't even
keep it real by living in a communist society.

        I agree with Cog that the bouncer should just let someone into the
bar without proper ID.  Hey, let's let people travel all over the world
without a passport as well.  Let's let people buy stuff on credit without
credit cards.  Let's get rid of those nasty SIN numbers as well, you know,
the numbers that let the government know you exist and let you get money.
Names are a form of identification as well, so we'll nix those too, starting
with the shitty name of Cog.  Well, what do we have left now?  Nothing, Cog,
just like you.

        You suggested that the bouncer check to see if your friend knew the
PIN number on his bank card.  First of all, I would like to say that anyone
who would be your friend deserves anything they get including death.  This
even includes me, so you know I keep it hardcore.  Ok, so here's your bright
idea.  The bouncer leaves his post and travels with you to the bank machine
that is six blocks away.  By the time you come back the bar will be closed
and there will be a pink slip under the door waiting for the bouncer.  And to
top it all off, he was the only bouncer, so when he left with you, a bunch of
seventeen year old girls got in with no ID and they all got drunk and had
fun.  Apparently their only regret was that there were no males at the bar
and most of the girls had come there with the sole purpose of losing their
virginity (with you).

        After locking the keys in the car like a bunch of retires, you had to
go back to the bar to use the phone, because obviously, there was no other
phone within walking distance. Well, Cog's walking distance, which is about
5 metres or so, 1 metre if it's not downhill.

        Another thing I have to say is that you pick some really shitty
places to go to.  First there was the specific bar that you didn't name, and
then there was the other bar where they ask you for ID after serving drinks
to you.  That's pretty stupid, I think.  There was only one time that I ever
had to leave a bar, and that was because I had two seventeen year old girls
with me.  Oh jeah, so here is my fucking solution.

Plan A: Find a bar where they don't use this "ID system" and start going
there exclusively.  Oh wait, such a place doesn't exist?

Plan B: Shut the hell up.


 .d&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&b.
    ___________________________________________________         
   |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           |
   |___________________________________________________|

 .d&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&b.
 Copyright 2000 by The Neo-Comintern                           #108-05/28/00

All content is property of The Neo-Comintern.
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