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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  5 2

                        .WE ARE THE 5th INTERNATIONAL
                         .February 11th, 1999
                          .Editor: BMC
                           .Writers:
                            .Phrog
                             .BMC          


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                                                                        ";P'
                        Featured in this installment:                    `$
                                                                          $
                   My Date With A Young MooN MonStaRess- BMC             ;P
                        Vancouverbatim (1 of 2)- Phrog                   d'
                                                                        ;P
                                                                        d'.
 .,;::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::;,"*,;

                               EDITOR'S NOTE

        Once again we find ourselves being assulted with criticisms from
fans.  "You guys are cruel and don't understand the plight of the pitiful
MooN MoNsTarS."  Oh, but we do!  The battle against the MoOn MonStars is not
unlike a double edged sword, because as much as we hate them, we love them
with religious passion.

        In other news, Cog recieved a series of private and confidential
messages from our friend Phrog.  We are now posting these personal letters
publicly for the amusement of the skeptics.


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                                                                        ";P'
                    MY DATE WITH A YOUNG MoON MONSTARESS                 d'
                                    by BMC                              ;P
                                                                        d'.
 .,;::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::;,"*,;
                                                             
                                (a true story)

        Venom can touch every man's penis, right?  This is known as the
eternal question which man has pondered through the ages.  Well, as my life
began and ended within a short series of seconds, I came face to face with
the girl of my dreams.  She had something special which made me feel
different than I had ever felt before.  I instantly fell deeply in love with
her, and found myself approaching this strange beauty who stood on the other
side of the labratory.

        "I love you," I said to her, as I felt my entire blood mass drop to
my feet.  I stood there, semiconscious, expecting the herd-hitting rejection
to emotionally destroy me and leave me as an incapacitated mound of zombified
matter.  What is the worst that she could say?  Well, only a heart-crushing
"I hate you," I suppose.  Suddenly the blood pressure came back into my
brain.  She had smiled, and this was good.  I nervously laughed and asked
her if she would be interested in dating me.  After a slight moment of
pseudo-thought, she replied "Maybe."

        I called her house later that week with the intention of geting to
get to know her better.  This new girl was entirely mysterious, and made me
extremely curious and excited.  Though she definately made me nervous, I
decided to go ahead and try to talk to her anyway.

        "Hello?" she said.

        I didn't know what to say.  "Snoop not sat cut!" came from my lips,
and I wondered what the hell I had just said to her.

        I was suprised to her her response: "I absolutely love you, BMC!  See
you at eight!"  I didn't know where she lived, so I went from door to door
until I found her house.

        "Oh, you're early," she said, and then we went out to watch an eight
o'clock movie.  She gave me a hand job in the theatre, and after I jizzed all
over the popcorn we gave it to some kids outside in the lobby.  That was
funny.  It seemed that I had found a soul mate, but could it possibly be
true?

        Obviously not, because when we she was giving me head in the back
alley, she stopped to let me know that she was half moOn moNstaR.  Upon
hearing those words, I spontaneously ejaculated, screaming "I I'am I be fat!"
Then the fear suddenly struck me.

        Have rodents cried?  I couldn't help but wonder what cosmic forces
drove the universe, from the micro to the macro: what was I to do with a girl
who belonged to a race that I had sworn an oath of hostility toward?  One
thing could be certain; Komrade B would not be present in the event of our
wedding.

        Later we went to a fancy restaurant where she ate cool bread and I
ate small pieces of her flesh.  Through her MNA, I learned stories of her
youth as well as her hopes, dreams, and desires.  I had felt her warm soul,
and I found myself to be falling in love.

        I love you, Moon mOnstaress!

        Komrade B kicked down the door and attempted to rape and kill the
MonStareSs.  I had no choice but to attack my brother to defend my one true
love.  I murdered the B, and placed him in a lead-lined coffin where I
revived him with the mystical rod of revival.  Then I promised to let him
go only if he would spare the life and maidenhood of the young MonSTarESs.

        It was done, and he agreed to let the mOnstaRess live.  The incident
was soon forgotten, and we both lived on to marry and propogate.  We had four
sons, whom we named after the four fathers of the Comintern.  We also had two
girls who didn't get names, but grew up beautiful and were married to Komrade
B.  My MooN MonStar bride and I lived quite happily until disaster struck one
winter's eve.

        We got into an argument one night and I ended arguing her whole body
right into my stomach.  Now she was dead, and I was feeling very full.  Even
though I had eaten my wife, she had won the argument, and I still had a bit
of room left in my old stomach.  I had a glass of gin and cola, and then I
ate a half of a bowl of soup.  It was a good meal.

 
(To Be Continued...)
                                                              

                                                     
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                                                                        ";P'
                                VANCOUVERBATIM                           d'
                                   by Phrog                             ;P
                                                                        d'.
 .,;::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::;,"*,;

        I been pretty busy cuz I just got a job on Tuesday, started on
Wednesday, and I been workin 8 hours a day ever since.  And that actually
takes up about 11 hours out of every day, cuz I gotta ride the bus for about
an hour just to get to the nice and slummy neighborhood where I get to work.

        Oh yeah.  I work at a Shell pumpin gas and what not, but the job
itself is actually pretty interesting.  Between all the customers who don't
speak English, the local junkies, the neighborhood punk kids and all the
prostitutes that come in, it keeps a fella on his toes. The area isn't really
all that bad (but there do be junkies, punks and a whole lotta ho's), it's
just really close (geographically) to like the worst neighborhood in all of
Van.

        By the way, I was exploring downtown and I noticed 2 strange things.
First thing I noticed was that all of the homeless people (and there are a
lot of them) seem to have dogs.  It's weird.  The second thing was the
pornography.  There's a disturbing number of "adult orientated" stores and
this was in the fancy area.  My kind of city!  The other day I saw the
coolest T-Shirt hangin in the window of one of the "adult orientated" stores.
It said in big black letters, "Fisting: it's a hands in experience."  So
needless to say, I already know what to do when I get my first paycheque!

        Anyways, every time I step out of the apartment I seem to instantly
get lost.  The other day I had to go somewhere about 20 blocks away, so I
took the bus there.  On the way back I figured I knew a shortcut, but instead
I ended up wandering around in the rain for about 2 and a half hours lost as
sweet hell.
 
              I eventually found my way home just like Lassie!

        In fact, the day when I applied for my job I got off the bus like 25
blocks too early (me smart!), and wound up pretty lost.  I saw a street name
that I reCOGnized from the map I looked at back at home when I was figuring
out how to get from point A to B.   And the name of the street was, no word
of a lie, "Blood Alley".  When I had first seen the name on the map I figured
it was some rustic little tourist-y type strip with a few old style pubs on
it, so the voice in my head was all like, "yeah Toni this is great just go
down Blood Alley, and then all will be good."  So like a butt-hole I went
down Blood Alley and quickly wound up totally lost in the worst neighborhood
I've ever seen.  It was a total cesspool and I was lost as hell in it.  At
one point, some rubby-assed old man stopped me to ask me if I was crazy.  I
don't know what the hell he meant, but I wasn't gonna ask him to clarify; I
just wanted to know how to get out of this neighborhood (in a bizarre stroke
of irony, it turns out this whole neighborhood is just blocks away from a big
commercial, fancy-schmancy commercial type area).  I eventually found a bus
stop with the number of my bus on it.  

        So after half an hour of being totally lost I was back on track and
eventually made to the place I was lookin for.  And to top off the crappy day
I was havin', I got the job! (rats!)

                                                   
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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                            #52-02/11/99

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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