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 odO$Obo.$Obo.$Obo.$Obo.$Obo.$Obo.odO$|$Obo.odO$.odO$.odO$.odO$.odO$.odO$Obo

    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  7 5

                        .WE ARE THE 5th INTERNATIONAL
                         .September 4th, 1999
                          .Editor: BMC
                           .Writers:      
                            .Gnarly Wayne
                             .Cog
                              .Komrade B
                               .BMC


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                                                                        ";P'
                        Featured in this installment:                    `$
                                                                          $
                My Love For Science and Humanity- Komrade B               $
                   And When I Die, And When I Die...- Cog                 $
                       King Small Child- Gnarly Wayne                     $
                                   Hi- BMC                               ;P
                      Voyage From Atlantis c.iii- BMC                    d'
                                                                        ;P
                                                                        d'.
 .,;::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::;,"*,;

                               EDITOR'S NOTE

        Somebody asked me why I write.  I thought about it for awhile, then
I found what seemed to be close enough to an answer to satisfy me.  I was
standing outside today, and I stretched my arms out.  I realized that they
only went out a few feet in each direction, so I jumped up and kicked out my
leg.  I kept stretching out, and eventually I found myself taking a running
start, jumping up, and kicking both legs out in mid air while still holding
my legs out.  I still didn't stretch very far.  Then I went home and looked
at my web counter and saw all the hits that have come from different
countries of the world, some that I have never even heard of.  Then I
realized that much more can be done with a mind and some media than can be
acomplished with any amount of running and jumping (unless you're an athlete
of some sort).


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                                                                        ";P'
                      MY LOVE FOR SCIENCE AND HUMANITY                   d'
                                by Komrade B                            ;P
                                                                        d'.
 .,;::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::;,"*,;

        I've made it official.  I hate technology.  Last night my CD stereo
stopped working last night and my printer doesn't work, so I have to take
them both in today, so I would further like to interate that we should
destroy all technology.  Wait B you say what would you do then since there
would be no computers?  Ha!  You would chuckle, thinking yourself smart, and
I would reply.  No I would have a computer, not like the ones we have now but
an organic one for sure.  Yes a computer made of wood, and foil, and dirt.
Not nearly as powerful, but certainly more beautiful and spiritual.  Now wait
you say.  An organic computer how can we make one of those?  They have been
around for years.  Lenin and company were making these for missle strikes in
the twenties, but were scraped with his death, because the survivors lacked
the the love that Lenin had to make the computers grow.
        
        Now love is something that is not in short coming here at the Ncom.
I sodomize the other writers weekly.  Nope that is not the problem.  The
problem is that the wood necessary to be the casing and circuitry for the
computer is made of a rare ash wood found in the leafy jungles of southern
Venus.

        The inhabitants of that planet the VeNO PPspaTeliks are currently on
non-talking terms with Earth unlike in Lenin's time when they were active
traders with the Russian empire.

        Enough talk about those for awhile.  That is a problem that has been
put on the back burner.  Another problem I have lays in a missing continent.
I was watching a Japanese Anime when some english writing flashed across the
screen that said the "Weathering Continent"!  Wow I thought a missing
continent.  Then horror crossed my mind as I realized that the Japanese
probably misinterpreted the writing and the meant the "Weather Ring
Continent".  Think on this revolutionaries.  The lost continent of weather
traffikers.  I knew those bastards were hiding somewhere, and at last I had
my tip.  By killing the traffikers we would free up all good, and cheap
weather and get rid of this expensive weather that has been plaguing the
globe in the forms of severe cold and natural disasters such as earthquakes
and hurricanes.

        As such I implore each and every one of you to seek out this
continent.  Inquire within your own communities about shady, and reclusive
characters that live amongst you.  Remember ignorance is your friend.
Strike down the infidels

Thank You


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                                                                        ";P'
                      AND WHEN I DIE, AND WHEN I DIE...                  d'
                                   by Cog                               ;P
                                                                        d'.
 .,;::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::;,"*,;

                "...there'll be one child born in this world
                 To carry on, to carry on." -The guy from B.S.&T

        When I die, there'll be no bossoleum for me.  No, when I die, I want
the funeral held right beside my body "as is" right where it was found, and
completely undisturbed.  Even my skull, having been smashed by a rock, will
not be "prettied up" for the sake of my acquaintences with weak stomachs --
as a matter of fact, if you have a weak stomach, you probably didn't know me
well enough to even be invited to my funeral.  Think of it as my way to weed
out these people.

        When I die, I don't want any sort of fancy "grave".  No, when I die,
I want the items on my body to be imbedded in the remains of my head, and a
small hole (about a foot deep) dug in Factoria.  I am to be carelessly tossed
into the hole and covered with a modest amount of dirt (like a handful).

        When I die, I don't want to rest in peace.  No, when I die, I want
my body to be scavenged by birds, fed on by bacteria, and violated by any
mammal lucky enough to walk by.  During a slow day, I am to be hosed off.

        When I die, I will not allow a headstone to be placed near me.  No,
when I die, I simply want "Cog" spray-painted directly under where "Venezuela
Mexico" has been spray-painted on the old cement foundation in Factoria.
Additionally, an arrow can be painted to indicate where I am.

        When I die, I will not allow my body to remain in a pristine state.
No, when I die, I would like three additional things done with my body.  The
first thing would be to have my throat slit so that children might poke some
sticks into it, as I am a very giving person.  The second thing would be to
have one knee forcefully bent the wrong way as a multi-purpose warning.  And
lastly, I would like my penis cut off and shoved into my mouth; I must
accomplish in death that which I could not in life.  (Self-Fellatio, not
homo-eroticism.  I got that one down already).

        I shall be the envy of all the world when I die -- my will be done.


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                                                                        ";P'
                              KING SMALL CHILD                           d'
                               by Gnarly Wayne                          ;P
                                                                        d'.
 .,;::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::;,"*,; 
                                               

        "How?", the small 10-year old child thought.

        "How can I be King of the world?", he agonized.

        He had more than a few plans.

        His first involved chainsaw, a tazer, and a piece of copper, but he
was quickly arrested and put in detention for 3 hours.

        "Onto Plan B", he thought.

        This plan required him to somehow get super powers, any would do.  He
took a lesson from his "comic books", and dipped himself in a vat of unknown
toxic chemicals charged with electricity and a few sharks for good measure.
But he just got horribly burned and bitten (from the sharks).

        After his 3 month intensive surgery, he was more determined than ever
to win the world.

        Plan C called for a lot of drugs and all at the same time.  This made
him feel like he ruled the world, but that was not the reality.

        Plan D had him amount 12 Giggygagazillon dollars by betting on the
ponies.  He tried to buy the world, but no country (except Madagascar) would
accept his dirty dirty money.

        Instead, he bought 50 Technology points and built a giant robot,
heavily armed with laser and plasma cannons, and fusion missles.  He intended
to take the world by force, but was defeated at the hands of the invunerable
GM of Reality, who constantly broke down his ego with rudeness, and the
Moss MC, who covered the entire robot in moss, and destroyed it.

        "Damn, Jesus was a black man.", he thought as he contemplated the
riskiness of Plan E.

        This plan was weird cause it involved time travel.  Some weird time
travelly shit happened and in the end nothing much happened, except fried
potatoe slices were now called "chips" by the entire world.

        "It's time.....", he said to no one in particular, cause he had no
friends.

        Plan G was to come into play.

        He cringed at the thought of using such a terrible plan, but the
world had left him no other choice.

So.......................................................................

...he started up an e-mag called the Neo-Comintern, hired the best writers of
the eon, and began the slow, but steady, rise to the top of the world.

The muthafucking saga continues.........


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                                                                        ";P'
                                     HI                                  d'
                                   by BMC                               ;P
                                                                        d'.
 .,;::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::;,"*,; 

        Hi.

        The End.

        P.S. The article could stand by itself with that single word.  There
you have witnessed the greatest word in the history of the human language.
Hi.  It is the perfect word.  It is high in the middle without having to be
round on both ends.  Never in recorded history has a word had so many uses.
Most people don't think of "hi" as a multipurpose word, but it truly is.

        The first use of the word is the one that most people know as having
gained worldwide popularity.  "Hi" is the perfect word to say to greet
someone.  It is intelligent enough to be used by the upper eschelon of the
intelligensia, yet simple enough to be perfectly performed by a small child.
It is the one thing in the entire cosmos that puts people on a level playing
field.  The next time you meet with a friend or acquaintance, try greeting
them with "hi," and from there the conversation can be sculpted into whatever
you dream of.

        The second use of the word, which is gaining global fame quicker
than a wild fire, is to say it at a slightly innapropriate time, such as in
the middle of a conversation.  The listener will consider it to be funny,
because there is no need to greet someone once you are already engaged in a
conversation with them.  In movies, we have seen the amusing scenario when
somebody is caught in the act of doing something that they know they should
not be doing.  In some movies, which I will not name (due to lack of short
term memory due to smoking drugs), the protagonist, or even occasionally the
antagonist, has baffled the onlooker with the humourous greeting of "hi."
Since the misused word has the tendancy to charm as well as baffle, it is
the perfect tension breaker during that tense moment.  Here are a few
examples:

best case scenario:

Me- Hey what's happening?
Dupe- Umm... my mom and dad died, and so did a few other people.
Me- Hi.
Dupe- HahAHha! You always know what to do to bring my family back to life!


worst case scenario:

Me- Hey whats' happening?
Dupe- Umm... I found out that I am sick and I am going to die later today.
Me- Hi.
Dupe- I feel way better now, but I'm still going to die.

(note- the error in this scenario was not in the delivery of the word "hi,"
 but in the careless misspelling of "what's")


average case scenario:

Me- Hey what's happening?
Dupe- Not much.
Me- Hi.
Dupe- Huh?
Me- Exactly.

(note- case 3 is the only one that I have actually experienced to date.)


        There is a third use of the word, "hi," which can only be described
as revolutionary and slightly lucrative.  Using "hi" to end a conversation.
Instead of saying "bye," "goodbye," or "I am terminating this conversation/
friendship, try saying "hi."  It has the tendancy to confuse most and
emotionally distress some, but it is worth a try sometime.

        With all of these new definitions of "hi" popping up, you might
assume that there would be a huge rush to patent the word.  There was.  A
southern lad named Jason claimed to have obtained a copyright, but it must
have been a delusion because the BMC has just recieved all rights to the
word as well as a Nobel Peace Prize and the original copy of the Magna Carta.

        In closing, I would like to urge you to say "hi," the word of a new
generation!  Hi.


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                                                                        ";P'
                     VOYAGE FROM ATLANTIS (chapter iii)                  d'
                                   by BMC                               ;P
                                                                        d'.
 .,;::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::;,"*,; 

        In the midst of a lengthy battle with the twelve surviving officers
of the museum, I found myself weaponless and in severe danger.  I was growing
tired, and eager to flee.  The battle continued, and as I attacked one
viscious centurion with my bare hands, there was a clamour at the entrance.
Was it friend or foe?

        As fate had it, that was not my day to die.  The sub-water boat
battered through the door, using Komrade B's head as a battering ram.  As I
experienced the sweet feeling of relief, a guard struck me in the arm with
his sword.  The feeling of relief fled.

        I was cut deep, and could no longer battle.  Luckily, the impact woke
Komrade B up, and the three of us were back to back gainst our foes.  The
sub-water boat was by far the best fighter among us; it was so great, in
fact, that neither of us wondered why it was suddenly alive, fighting, and
travelling on land.  Who cared?  Ah, we were so young and free then.  Flowers
smelled sweeter, and life was so much easier.  Dogs ate peoples brains, and
rainbows strangled me with their colourful goodness.  Then I was struck in
the back of the head with a mace, and the feeling of being young and free
dissipated.

        When I returned to consciousness the room was cleared, and the sub-
water boat told me that the mission had failed.  "Not yet," I determined,
"we still have ample time to murder the evil Proteus!"  Sure, it was the
delusional rambling of a madman, but I believed it at the time.  Youth and
impudence were on our side, and the day was young.  I looked forward and
devised a new plan.
 

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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 1999 by The Neo-Comintern                            #75-08/04/99

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.
