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 =)