💾 Archived View for clemat.is › saccophore › library › ezines › textfiles › ezines › CON › v01.con03… captured on 2021-12-03 at 14:04:38.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Capital of Nasty Electronic Magazine
Issue III, Volume I, Year MCMXCVI AD
Monday , July 1st, 1996
--------------------------------------------------------------------
1. POEM: My Heart as punica granatum by Salad37
2. HATE: Dismissed in a sentence.
3. LOVE: Jocks VS Nerds.
4. CON : The Third Issue.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
My Heart as punica granatum
The wax drips down as my sleep dies
and still I wish to deceive me
with a hopeful frown and luke warm lies
and no world left perceiving
A jump a moth makes into my flame
my wick still glows so strongly
with futures I'd like to hold again
but leave with constant longing
Still glowing now I feel myself
the heat that burns was once for love
and before turning away from the horror there
I burned like an entrapped dove
So take my hand, sweet Euredice
and walk me down your bleach dried shores
Let my fate be immortalized
for always just as yours
And now I take my ever dream
and stash it away with tomorrow
I quickly lock and hide the key
from always todays sorrows
Thank you for your time Homer,
Suzanne
(salad@ridgecrest.ca.us)
--------------------------------------------------------------------
-> HATE <-
We HATE ravers, they
are the scum of the
earth, they are robots,
fashion victims with
bad clothes, bad
haircuts and seriously
sub standard drugs. We
HATE skaters, get a
job, quit clogging the
streets. We HATE white
boy trip hop and the
junglist massive, too
many hard beats don't
make you hard. We HATE
Goths, goth is dead,
they can't dance
because they are too
worried about breaking
into a sweat and having
their make up run. We
HATE punks, punk is
also dead, the symbols
are meaningless in the 90s.
We HATE the easy
cocktail listening fad,
elevators and
supermarkets was bad
enough, please keep it
out of the club scene.
We HATE post punks,
wasn't punk bad enough?
We HATE indie kids:
face it, M(orr)isery is
a sad bastard, Robot
Smith is a prick and
Blur or Oasis are just
bad sixties rip off
merchants who can't
sing. We HATE
shoegazers because they
are 'sensitive' pseudo
intellectual gits who
can't dance either and
wear stripes and spots
together, gross. We
HATE dub, no really, we
hate dub. We especially
HATE the nouveux
'sensitive' pseudo
intellectual post indie
ambient bleepsters.
Christ, couldn't they
chill out at home,
instead of at some
fucking techno club
sitting in the back
room trainspotting
about the bloody
catalogue number of
some obscure track that
some unknown artist
nocked up in their
bedroom and released
five copies of
(including the one they
gave to their mum). "We
HATE the comeback of
DISCO and the 70's",
flares were just a bad
joke weren't they? Or
did I miss something?
We HATE industrial kids
and cyber punks,
putting NIN on the back
of your leather jacket
does not make you cool,
and face it, it's just
goth these days anyway.
We HATE the new "new
romantics", fuck didn't
we ditch that shit in
1983? Do we really need
to retrofit ourselves?
We HATE the perv approxima,
with their corsets,
chokers & collars, quit
pretending, you work in
a bank. We HATE people
who won't admit they
are going bald. We HATE
Metallers, especially
fluffy metallers: perms
are for poodles, open
shirts are for Burt
Reynolds and head
banging/air guitar is
for posing gits who
can't play. We HATE
crusties: the new age
will not be hastened by
wandering the streets
with backpacks, dogs on
string, dreads and
sitting on your arse
listening to the
Levellers or NMA
smoking far too much
dope. We HATE rap
kids:'Yo Homey' means
something in South
Central, it means fuck
all here. We HATE
internet newbies on the
IRC talking about all
of the above and
clogging up the wires.
We HATE anyone who is
in a band. We HATE
anyone who knows anyone
in a band. We HATE
anyone who has ever
listened to a band. We
HATE anyone who either
puts their fists in the
air at gigs or brings
whistles to a club. We
HATE pc yuppie bastards
who listen to sampled
ethno historical pygmy
music, think that
enigma is cool and that
they can really relate
to the third world.
Yeah right. We HATE
patronising superior
fuckhead music students
who mumble at the back
of gigs about how the
various instruments are
out of tune. We HATE
dimestore spiritualists,
you know, the kinds of
people who go to a
reservation or some
third world type place,
stay a while to grok
their culture while not
actually being accepted
at all and then return
to bore the shit out of
us talking about what a
deep experience they had over
wine during dinner with
Miles Farthington-
Smythe. We HATE pagans,
witches, anyone who
says "thank goddess",
especially the ones who
go on and on and on
about the phases of the
moon and get really
wrecked, then climb up
a hill in the freezing
cold and pass out and
call it a ritual. We
HATE SNAGS (sensitive
new age guys) for
obvious reasons. We
HATE fucking artists,
people who purport to
liking art, people who
go to art galleries or
anyone who in all
seriousness finds it
interesting enough to
discuss in public. We
HATE content providers,
what the fuck does that
mean anyway, "content
provider", We HATE do
do dodo do do do dodo
doo dooo'do do dododo
dododdloo do dodo
dododdloo. We HATE
anyone who complains
about not being able to
download sounds, movies
or shockwave files due
to an inability to read
the simple and clear
instructions on screen.
We HATE people who keep
reminding you to "Watch
the Skies" (because
they watch the X-
Files). We HATE people
who excuse themselves
for being assholes
because of "spring
fever", there is never
an excuse for being an
asshole. We HATE who
send you excessive e-
mails and then phone
you up to see if you
got it - if we didn't
reply it's because we
don't want to talk to
you. We HATE it when
you are walking down
the street and the two
people in front of you
manage to make it
completely impassable
even though you could
normally
drive a bus down it. We
HATE those new beepers
where you have to speak
to a real person. What
was wrong with the old
style "type in your
number" and fuck off
ones? We HATE sugar &
spice and all things
nice etc. We HATE golf,
what an idiotic sport.
We HATE that we can't
get any food around
here after four o'clock
in the afternoon
because all the suits
are going home. We HATE
pubs shutting at
eleven, why don't they
close at one as they do
in Scotland. We HATE
hate cabs who pick up
violent pissed suits in
preference to you
because you supposedly
look dodgy. We HATE
suits, but that goes
without saying. We HATE
anyone who doesn't like
the Lion King. We HATE
anyone uses the words
"repurpose", "psychographics",
"added value" or "brand
awareness" in any
context other than to
deride marketing. We
HATE really hot
weather. We HATE all
forms of genetic
engineering. We HATE
apparently deaf people.
We HATE Netscape 3.0b4,
System 7.5.3 and
anything else that
constantly crashes. We
HATE children, because
they are extremely
irritating. We HATE
people who think that
the millenium start in
the year 2000. We HATE
people who don't rewind
the tapes from video
shops. We HATE people
in positions of
authority who refuse to
accept responsibility
for that authority.
But even more, We HATE
people who assign
authority but insist
on approving decisions
made by those assigned.
We HATE Rugby League,
machosim, yobos and
people who can't speak
English without
dribbling and saying
ay, mayte? and oi a
lot! "Bureaucracy?",
Social heirachy/class
Plus narrow mindedness
and people who can't
handle CHANGE! We HATE
spiders!!!! We HATE
having to be so
negative all the time
Most of all we HATE
collective identity:
every day of your
pathetic life you are
being put in a little
box by society by the
way you look or the
bands you listen to.
Collective identity
sucks, began
individual, don't make
it easy to be dismissed
in a sentence.
www.obsolete.com/convulsion/hate.html
--------------------------------------------------------------------
JOCKS VS NERDS
THE NERD
I like men who carry pens. Men who think that Shea Stadium is
in New Jersey. Men who don't know how to tell the difference
between the home team and the visitors at a glance. Not that I
don't recognize the sex appeal of a fine athletic specimen, but
that's nothing that six minutes of gawking at Michael Jordan can't
fix. In this real, wired world, ignorance of jocky things is bliss.
Best to go out and get yourself a geek.
Jocks kiss too hard. They have a conqueror mentality. They're
heavy on top. Sure, they're well-muscled and tend to walk
around naked more, but who wants to sink all her savings into a
gym membership just to keep up? You're always in better
physical shape than your nerd is. Nerds won't wake you too
early on weekends to go running or mountain biking, or watch
football on TV. Nerds can't see you in the morning until they're
reunited with their glasses. Allergies and bugs dictate that nerds
sleep in hotels, not tents, on vacation.
I confess that I too once made the common, midwestern high
school mistake of coveting the boys with the big calves and the
cut-off jerseys. Eventually I learned a couple of important
lessons: One, nothing on earth has a less seductive odor than old
hockey gear. Two, no self-respecting teenage girl should go out
with anyone her dad can talk baseball with (i.e., approves of).
Weaning myself off the athletic boys slowly, I turned first to the
scrawniest football player I could find: the kicker. Then I went
cold turkey, to guys who entirely skipped Friday night games and
studied a lot. I discovered that not only did they read and write
and have tissues on hand, but they were much kinder on a
fragile, adolescent ego than the love-'em-and-leave-'em letter
jacket types. It's relatively easy to rock a geek's world; once over
the initially clumsy wooing stage, they're extremely loyal and
dedicated. The tradition continued in college, where I had a
consistent fondness for what one friend of mine who shared my
passion termed "assless liberal boys." But a rose is a rose, highly
allergenic as it may be.
Which brings me to my closing argument for the value of the
lanky guy behind the glasses: Nerds, as opposed to
reliving-that-three-pointer jocks, grow up to be adults. They
won't drag you to dumb movies about team sports. They can't
drink you under the table, so you won't feel too sloppy when you
join them for cocktails. They never get in barroom brawls. Nerds
have more interesting personalities, better jobs, long fingers, and
send good E-mail. Take one home with you today.
THE JOCK
Do jocks make better lovers? DUH. There's one very simple
answer to this question: stamina. It's essential, right? I mean,
that's the reason they can endure it all--the sudden-death
overtime, the 13th inning, the three- legged race. They're
high-powered and prepared to chug it out till the job's done, till
the game's over and won, till the lady's happy. Get it? So, if it's
just about lovin', well, the jock's got it won hands down. But it's
not just about that.
Let's go down the long list of advantages. First of all, for purely
superficial reasons, jocks look better. Their bodies are nicer--and
there's no need to deny ourselves a little beauty in life, a little art.
It's OK to be surrounded by nice-looking things, I mean guys.
Swooning over biceps and fine asses are what they expect.
That's part of the reason jocks are out there in the first place . . .
for us.
Think back to those high school football games and the sight of
those cut-off jerseys. Any raring-to-go teenage girl would choose
one of those boys over a calculus-loving geek. As far as
meaningful boyfriendly gestures go, wasn't it cooler to get a ride
on his bike or play "around the world" on the basketball court
than to receive an invitation to a chess club bake sale? The
jockish places to do it are also a plus. Beneath bleachers and
sweaty weight rooms are good spots.
I didn't always appreciate the jock and his talents. Way back
when, it was a skinny, brooding type of boy, afraid of daylight,
whom I chased. When I finally cornered one, though, what a
disappointment! A congested, wheezing tissue-user too
consumed by NyQuil and kitschy Flintstones collectibles. He
didn't know anything about sports, was tormented as a kid by
bloodthirsty marathon sessions of dodgeball and could fit into the
same size jeans as me. No wonder I started looking at the athletic
guys. Three-pointers, perfect touchdown passes, and decking the
goalie are something to behold!
There are the subtler sides to the relationship with a jock, too.
He can carry the heavier bags of groceries, which gives him a
delightfully domesticated look. He can run alongside your
departing train as he blows kisses your way. He can easily catch
you as you jump into his arms. When he returns home from a
pick-up game of basketball with jammed fingers and scraped
elbows, you can bust out the first-aid stuff and nurse him up.
The jock boyfriend or husband is passionate about sports, and
this can be a very educational thing. Through osmosis, you can
develop a keen knowledge of baseball stats, recall the names of
the starting quarterbacks of the Big 10 schools, and learn to
recognize a bad call just as quickly as any enthusiast.
Accompanying your jock to live sporting events is always cool,
especially if he's playing in them. High school track and field,
college basketball, home-run derbies, darts, whatever. If he
works up a sweat and wears a uniform, all your jock
expectations are realized.
The last thing I'd like to say about the big benefits of the male
athlete as boyfriend is that he knows about teamwork and fair
play, the keys to a smooth relationship. He's got rah-rah spirit
and is used to physical contact. The next time you watch a
college football game on TV, check out the boys as they huddle:
Those guys are holding hands! If they can do that for each other,
imagine what they can do for you.
http://www.charged.com/stories/jockvsnerd/showdown.html
--------------------------------------------------------------------
CON: ISSUE THREE
Reading the "HATE" list, I felt like adding a few, remove
a few others, but then I decided to leave it as it was (but I took
the freedom to correct a few spelling mistakes that I caught while
reading it). Perhaps the one I like the best is the last one:
don't be labelled. Everywhere you look you can classify someone.
He belongs to that group, she belongs to the other one. Even the
so called "alternative" people that try to stand out, in the end
belong to a group called, you guessed it, the alternative.
Send us in the one thing that you HATE and the one thing that
you LOVE. (Make sure you write if you want to remain anonymous).
For those that helped in this issue, thank you =)