____ ______ __/ _/_ \ _/__ ________ _________ ________ ________ \ ____)__/ __ )_/ ______/_ \ __ )_/ ______/_/ _____/\ / \) / (/ / ________/ / (/ / ________/ \) / \___ \ /____/ /____ / /____/ /____ /_________/ \____/ \____/ \____/ \____/ \____/ ____ /___/ ____ ________ ________ _________ ___ ______ __/ _/_ ________ ______ ______ / _____/_ _____/\ __ __ )_ \ __ )\ ____)_ ____/_/ ) __ )_ / \) / \) / (/ (/ / / (/ / \) / ______/ /___/ (/ / /____ \ /________/___/__/ /__/___/ /\___ \ /___ /___/ /___/ / \____/ \___/ \___/ \___/ \___/ \___/ ::::::::.:::..::...:.... ... .. . . .. ... ....:...::..:::.:::::::: t h e n e o - c o m i n t e r n i n s t a l l m e n t 3 3 WE ARE THE 5th INTERNATIONAL September 24th, 1998 editor: BMC writers: Cog BMC ::::::::.:::..::...:.... ... .. . . .. ... ....:...::..:::.:::::::: . featured in this installment: . The Story Of How Things Happened- BMC . Baggin On Zolitaire- BMC . Mechannia!- Cog . : . . . . . . .. ...................................; EDITOR'S NOTE New stuff this issue? But of course! This installment features the first article in my "Return to Atlantis" series. (unless you count the article in #32) Oh well. So read that, and read some other crap, and then (and only then) will you be able to laugh at Cog and his car. When is that car going to be done, Cog? Oh well, it's been a few months, and it will probably be a few more. READ IT! (peace) ::::::::.:::..::...:.... ... .. . . .. ... ....:...::..:::.:::::::: . THE STORY OF HOW THINGS HAPPENED . by BMC . : . . . . . . .. ...................................; This is the story of how things happened. Back in 1995 I was the leading an expedition of the Bermuda Triangle. This area of the sea has always been viewed by the world as mysterious, evil, treacherous, and even dangerous. I saw the triangle as being my engagement ring which would possibly hold the world's most beautiful gem- Atlantis. Most skeptics, including 98% of my fifty crew members and occasionally myself, considered the exploration of an area with no known land masses to be a waste of three billion dollars of the taxpayers' money. The funding came chiefly from the Canadian government, but large amounts of money were also supplied by the U.N. and several Baltic countries which I will not specifically name. Anyway, my elite exploration unit combined many experienced sailors and a few dozen specialists in other fields. The crew included ten sailors (7 captains and 3 admirals) for purposes of navigation and other ship-related tasks. There were also two monks who were trained at exceedingly high levels of kung fu. The rest of the crew consisted of scientists, political analysts, musicians, and circus performers. Not to be forgotten is the stowaway we found; a Spanish harlot named Juaine who had great hopes of traveling to the "great sea bazaar". Our ship was launched in secret from an invisible port on a secret Canadian coast. As the moon mist touched my face, I wondered whether times ahead would be good, bad, or even, mad. To be continued... ::::::::.:::..::...:.... ... .. . . .. ... ....:...::..:::.:::::::: . BAGGIN ON ZOLITAIRE . By BMC . : . . . . . . .. ...................................; Greetings. Some of you have played Zolitaire before, but I have some important information for you. This game, Zolitaire, is not very fun, but is very addictive. You can get this game for Winblows, and there are a variety of settings for game type. The most addictive of these forms is "draw 3 Vegas style zolitaire", and addiction is not only probable, but it is also possible. I must stress the fact that this game is tiring and stressful, and there are no positive effects to playing the game. For those that don't know, Zolitaire is a card game which is supposedly a solo random game, but in reality it is a game which the computer sets up for you. And the computer beats you. It beats you not only mentally, but also emotionally, spiritually and very very physically. I have been scourged for hours at a time by my usually mild mannered computer. If you put your computer through abuse (i.e. using it too little, making it process lots of information, etc.) this is where the computer lashes back at you. At this time I would like to mention that I have been held captive by the computer's Zolitaire for the last 5 hours, 25 minutes. Let me just say that it is a draining experience. I suggest that you do not try to play this game. If you do, however, it is a thing similar to smoking or drinking coffee. It's something that you constantly yearn to quit doing. Here are 3 things you might hear yourself say to the computer while you play Zolitaire: -This next one is going to be my last game. -How long has that card been sitting there for? -God, I hate this game. After time has passed, your alertness will have been sapped by the game, and you will be unable to function for several hours after finishing the many many games. When you play Vegas style, the goal is to have a cash flow in the black, but if you don't win within the first 3 or 4 games, you may be playing forever. Anyway, Zolitaire PC is not the game for you. It is a game that will be banished within the Canadian-Communist Realm, but it will be forced upon several MLC inmates for experimental purposes. ::::::::.:::..::...:.... ... .. . . .. ... ....:...::..:::.:::::::: . MECHANNIA! . by: Cog : . . . . . . .. ...................................; Can you take a mechanic to court if he lies to you? Seeing as how this is how mechanics make their living, it seems doubtful. I took my chariot into a garage in early August. By the way, it's a 1980 Ford Mustang Turbo, and (to borrow a line from Ben Edlund, creator of The Tick) it is "the pride of the American auto industry, circa 1980". I was told to bring my chariot in on a Monday, and that it would be out on Tuesday. I kick myself now for not having asked WHICH Tuesday. I had it towed to the garage early Monday morning, went into the office and agreed to having my car put into surgery, and left with tears welling in my eyes. "Get well soon," I wished while the Mustang, MY Mustang disappeared over the horizon as I drove away. "It's only for one night..." Tuesday. There was no call from the garage this day. I drove past and noticed that my car was still in the same spot it had been in since yesterday. I decided to ask what was amiss. It seemed that the mechannic assigned to my vehicle was not there. Also, I learned that he would have to find time to work on it. "Why was I supposed to bring it in on Monday," I wondered to myself... The next few days, I noticed my car was still in the same place. The days turned into weeks. The weeks turned into duo-weeks. My mechanic was never there. It is at this point that I start to wonder if the word "garage" was mis-spelled. Perhaps it should be spelled "garbage". ring ring says mister phone "Hi, this is the Garbage. Wayne speaking. Your car is not broken where we thought is was. It is fine there. That will be $500." "When can I get it?" I asked, not the least bit surprised that my mechanic's name was Wayne. "NO! It is bleeding somewhere. We will send all to the Expensive Place for testing." "Yes, I figured as much." "Love me." "Goodbye." Well, at least they were working on it, right? Right. I was getting hopeful! I even recieved a call a few days later saying that they were putting my car back together! Days later, I recieved a call: "Hello, this again is the Garbage. Wayne is speaking! Your car is a bit more fixed. It blows no more white smoke, only blue smoke! $500!" "Really?" "Do you like blue?" "What's wrong with it now?!" "Turbo unit I figure is broke." "I will be too, soon..." I craftily ascertained! "Life rocks! I am somebody! Super-Wayne!" "Goodbye." So here it is, the middle of September. I'm calling people at salvage yards trying to find an obscure part for a 19 year old car. I've found one that will work from a 1984 Ford Thunderbird, and I was quoted $200. When you figure in the $30-or-so dollars an hour that Wayne is making off this, it seems that I will have to start selling organs to pay for this. Then there's the vehicle registration to worry about. *UPDATE!*: They won't take any of my organs. I'm going to have to start conceiving black market babies with lonely, eldery women. They should be born about the same time my car is ready. ::::::::.:::..::...:.... ... .. . . .. ... ....:...::..:::.:::::::: ___________________________________________________ |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 http://www.sfn.saskatoon.sk.ca/~ad357 | | Email BMC at manta1@hotmail.com | |___________________________________________________| ::::::::.:::..::...:.... ... .. . . .. ... ....:...::..:::.:::::::: #33-09/24/98 Copyright 1998 N-Com All content is property of The Neo-Comintern. Unauthorized use of any part of document is prohibited. All Rights Reserved.