_ _ _ ____. _ _ ____. ____ FJ_ FJ L] F___ J F L L] F ___J F __ ] J _| J |__| L '-__| L J \| L J |___: J |--| L ______ | |-' | __ | |__ ( | |\ | | _____| | | | | |______| F |__-. F L__J J .-____] J F L\\ J F L____: F L__J J L______J \_____/J__L J__LJ\______/F J__L \\__LJ________LJ\______/F J_____F|__L J__| J______F |__L J__||________| J______F ___ ____ __ __ __ _ _ ____ ____. _ _ ,"___". F _ ] F \/ ] / J F L L] F___ ] F___ J _ ___ F L L] FJ---L] J |/ | L J |\__/| L LFJ J \| L'--7 / '-__| L J '__ ",J \| L J | LJ | | /| | | |'--'| | J L | |\ | / // |__ ( | |__|-J| |\ | | \___--. F /_J J F L J J J L F L\\ J J L.-____] J F L '-'F L\\ J J\_____/FJ\______/FJ__L J__LJ__LJ__L \\__LJ__LJ\______/FJ__L J__L \\__L J_____F J______F |__L J__||__||__L J__||__| J______F |__L |__L J__| -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 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 1 6 9 We Are the New International September 9th, 2001 Editor: BMC Writers: Lobo Licious Bu Joe Margarina Cataclysma Gnarly Wayne BMC d""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""b. ;P Featured in this installment .b $ $ $ I'm Killing Myself, and I Blame the Music - Lobo Licious $ $ A Loving Goodbye - Bu Joe $ $ To Whom it May Concern - Margarina Cataclysma $ $ A Letter I'll Never Send - BMC $ `q p' `nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn' FOUND ON THE INTERNET (author unknown) "Hey guys, the suicide it's a suicide issue is coming out soon. Time to do our cult mass suicide thing to show people we know the real deal," said BMC to the N-Com Team Strike Force, currently gathered in the tactical war room. "I've got the teflon bullets ready," offered Cog. "I've got 3 drums of cyanide," mentioned Bu Joe. "I've got four 66's," quipped Wayne, "But I drank them already." "Good job, everyone, except for Wayne. Now, let's go to the place of where we kill us," leadered BMC. We all piled into the N-Com hovercraft and flew over to the rented warehouse. Cog and Heckat started setting up the gunz with strings on their triggers whilst Bu Joe began opening the drums of poison. BMC was the foreman and Wayne didn't help out. After everything was prepared, a limo containing the remaining N-com staff pulled up. "Hey, did we miss it?" asked STUYA. "We are still alive, aren't we?" jested BMC. "Ha Ha hA, that is true," said STUYA. Soon to follow was Junior Haagis, Margarina Cataclysma, and The Capitalism Monster. "All right everyone... into positions," commanded BMC. "Are you all ready to face your final destiny, my lovely family? To take the ulimate trip into oblivion together and join our souls in a union of.." "CRIPES! JUST KILL US ALREADY!" bellowed Wayne. "If you run your mouth like this in the afterlife, I'm going to be PISSED! Oh wait, I am pissed. ha hA." "*sigh* whatever, hey Wang. I will do the honours of pulling this trigger, riddling our bodies with the teflon bullets dipped in cyanide," triggered BMC. rat tat tat tat went the gat Soon, they were all deceased around me. Luckily I had ducked, as was my plan since the beginning. I looked around at the bloody mess and set about getting their articles and wallets. After putting my name on the articles, I whispered to myself, "Now... the world!" As I was driving home on the freeway on my bike, an old friend of mine passed by me in the other lane. I heard him say to the other passenger in his car, "Hey, wasn't that Komrade B?" Yes..... yes it was. d""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""b. ;P I'M KILLING MYSELF, AND I BLAME THE MUSIC .b `q by Lobo Licious p' `nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn' Dear Family and Girlfriend, I've listened to too much music with bad messages, it seems, so I've decided to end my life. Maybe if I'd never heard Metallica's "Fade to Black," things would be different. But alas, I first heard that song in early junior high, and since then I've been planning the right time to end my life. And what better time then now, when things are going so well for me? I guess the song kind of pegs it..."I have lost the will to live, simply nothing more to give." Yup. I've given my all, and I'm now at the peak of my life. There's nowhere to go but down, so why shouldn't I just end it now? So no, it has nothing to do with anything bad in my life...things are hunky-dorey. Seriously, I had a good childhood, and I'm enjoying college...if I wasn't doing this, I'd be entering 'the workforce' pretty soon, and that's just scary. It's something I'd like to hide from. So when I hear the tomorrowpeople talking about how "Suicide is a place to hide where they'll never find you," I know that it's the right thing to do, because, well, I'm a scared son of a bitch, and I know that this is the only way to hide from the responsibilities of life. So yeah, it's time to take my own life. One of my favorite bands, Baboon, even assures me that "Suicide doesn't seem that far away" in their song-of-songs "Lushlife." If I can't listen to a rock band I've never met for life-advice, who can I listen to? Seriously...why would people be allowed to record music if they weren't 100% serious about their message. Marilyn Manson is also to blame. No, I'm not a big fan of his. But yes, he covered "Suicide is Painless," on the soundtrack to _Blair Witch 2: Book of Shadows_ (I don't get that title. Where was the book? Where were the shadows?) Anyway, coincidentally, this song is also the theme to the TV show _MASH_. So yes, in a way, TV is to blame as well, as they have incessantly shown _MASH_ re-runs for virtually my entire life. Shit, that theme song is playing right now on the TV in the living room. But Marilyn Manson is the real cause. I mean, shit, a guy who dresses up in lingerie on stage and calls himself the anti-Christ is definitely a role-model. Besides, he used to pork Rose McGowan. The question isn't 'Why should I listen to Marilyn Manson?', it's 'Why *shouldn't* I listen to him?' Seriously, I can think of few better role models than a guy who stole his last name from Charles Manson. If he tells me that suicide is painless, then I definitely believe him. I mean, sure, it'll hurt when I put the shotgun up my ass and fire, but after that it'll be over quickly, since I'm also going to take some sleeping pills. A lot of sleeping pills. And as for you guys, I'm sure my passing won't be painful at all, since I'm sure you'll understand my reasons after reading this note. Blame the music... I don't know the difference between art and (the feelings it is meant to convey) and the words or images themselves. If someone I look up to says "Kill yourself," I'm sure as hell gonna do it. I guess I'm just an impressionable youth. So yeah, suicide it is. Music is the reason, have no doubt about that. In fact, I'm willing to bet that music is the impetus behind many more teen and post-adolescent suicides yearly than the liberal media wants you to think...But that's not a bad thing, oh no. Music is the reason I'm doing this and you should be happy for me for doing what the music industry wants me to do. That's why it continues to promote artists that sing pro-murder and pro-suicide songs...it's gradually killing off its fan base, and this is what it wants. Because hey, hasn't the music industry made all the money it can already? Nah, the above is all a sham. I *am* killing myself because of the music, but not because of any of the music I mentioned above...that's all pretty good shit. The reason I'm killing myself is because I can't stand to live another day in the same world as all these fucking boy bands. -Lobo Licious d""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""b. ;P A LOVING GOODBYE .b `q by Bu Joe p' `nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn' Dear Reader, I don't know why I'm writing this, its such a waste of time, all I have to do is press the knife down and I'm dead! Gone! Finished, of this fucking hellhole called earth. I hate it here! I don't know why I didn't do this earlier, its gonna be great - I'll be dead! No! Not dead, saved. I'll be saved from hell and maybe I'll go to heaven... naw, probably not. And you! Why are you reading this you sicko? Do you get turned on by reading suicide notes? Get a life. What was I saying? Oh yeah, earth is hell it's that simple HELL! Believe me you can trust me one hundred percent on this subject, it's hell. Like look around, capitalism rules, if you don't play the system right or have any sense of pride, loyalty and most of all morals and can't allow your self to stab your best friend in that back to climb the corporate ladder your screwed! You're a bum, living on the streets called stupid becuase you never made it anywhere, but your not stupid you're enlightened - you now understand what is really going on. Hopefully you don't turn up dead like me. I couldn't handle it. I pussied out, I'm going to slit my wrists and bleed to death. Why? Because I didn't have the courage to put up with hell, I tried I really tried but I couldn't handle it. I hope you can, I hope you read this note and open your eyes to a new reality, it's a harsh one but if one can properly handle themselves they'll be fine. But I couldn't do it. Well that's all I have to say, oh and one last thing, to the police I did kill myself I swear on all of my honor I died by my own hands. Peace, Love and Socialism, bu joe. I love you all! d""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""b. ;P TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN .b `q by Margarina Cataclysma p' `nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn' I wish to abandon this clutching lair of madness. Sometimes I wisht I never been born and as such renounce all claims, feeble though they may be, upon this domain over which I hold no power. I have held much conversation with myself over the minutae of my exile. What to wear? Black? Or a more joyous colour? Where to set myself for the final hour, and the hour of discovery? Which stipulations would I require of my kin for disposal of my corpse? Whence to remove the shame? Where to hide the paperwork of my life in order to maintain eternal privacy? Upon my mother's brow, at my birth, the beads of sweat formed the words "this child is going nowhere". It was a long and deleriously painful labour. But she was (is) an optimistic woman and had (has) boundless faith in me. I am most sorry to leave her. But she cannot help me. I am as helpless now as the day I was born. It is theorized that we obtain new corporeal forms until we finish what we've set out to do. I hope to return as a thousand million generations of mosquitos, or some other consciousless creation, easily swatted. It is theorized that we (suicides) spend a succession of lifetimes in some limbo. But a billion doses of purgative tonic will not waste me to the extent that I am wasted now. I hope to hell that my soul lives forever, but I really doubt it. Now, lest I fall into the trap of writing too long, getting sidetracked by the meanderings of my brain (which is in fact the organ that has drawn me to this endnote), and perhaps getting caught up in the editing and re-editing of my paragraphs, which will only distract me from my purpose, and extend my time (I do not want an extension), I will say good bye and fuck you. Enjoy the pungency of my corpse. Love, Marg d""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""b. ;P A LETTER I'LL NEVER SEND .b `q by BMC p' `nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn' Dear suicide, I am committing you, and soon everybody will be reading this note that I am writing to you. Although I want to talk about what the world has done to me and how horribly terrible it has wronged me, I know that there is something that I must mention first, lest everyone skips over everything proceeding it and doesn't bother going back to read it - the matter of who gets what. OK, first of all, my girlfriend gets all of my books and published manuscripts. She knows what to do with them. Heh. Second, I would like to leave my girlfriend to my closest friends. Enjoy her, guys (and gals). Thirdly, I would like to leave all of my unpublished manuscripts to the zine world, which has been so kind and helpful to me over the course of my life. Please publish them under my new pen-name "The Late BMC." Well that's my will. I hope you enjoyed reading it as I enjoyed writing it. You will note that nobody is referred to by name in it - that is because there are too many people for me to name - there are a lot of people I care about - friends, cohorts, and mentors - I like all of you, but I love some of you. I refuse to mention any names - I mean, you know who you are. If you are still reading, the odds are that you are not one of those people whose asses I was just kissing (they're a bunch of selfish jerks). Now for me to mention my wishes about conditions for my phuneral. I want my body to be disposed of in the cheapest way possible and disposed of without an urn, marked grave, or any other sort of monument to my remains. I think it's gross and morbid. I'm not a religious person and thus I require no burial ceremony. Plus I'll be dead, so even if I really wanted a funeral I'd never know the difference anyway. Cause I'll be dead, right? As in NOT ALIVE? You get my drift. Now there is the mater of funeral money. I know that people have been saving up for my funeral since the day I was a baby, so I'd like all of that money to be pooled together and used to publish a very special book entitled "BMC Speaks from BEYOND THE GRAVE: a collection of writings from the late BMC who committed suicide". On the front cover I would like a split picture: the left side will be a picture of me taken on grade 11 photo day, the right hand side will be of my face as photographed once I have died. This should be really funny and creepy and cool. It should also do wonders for book store sales. I would also like to note that I hereby give permission for selected excerpts from this suicide note to be used in the introductory section of the book. Please do not think that I'm committing suicide just to get the book published. It's actually because of my woe and pain and the horror of living in a world that refuses to show love, compassion, or sensibility. A world where capitalism grows, squeezing the life out of any working class person to the point where they would be better off dead if not making an effort to help the struggle for equality. Like I said, I'll get to that later, but for now, let me speak more about the book. Umm... make sure the book isn't bound in leather. I don't want any animals to die on my behalf. Which reminds me - if I'm going to be committing suicide here then I should give one last, important message to the world so that I don't have to believe that I've died without making a difference. MY FINAL MESSAGE Hey young world, the world is yours. We have to stop being so selfish and start working together as a community to make life better for everyone. Two heads are rumored to be better than one, so all of our heads together should be better than... hmm... however many are working together right now. And I'm not talking about those who are working together in the interests of the capitalist elite class. I'm talking about those who are working for the average people - I'm talking about getting rid of shitty working conditions and poverty. But I digress. Now here's the thing. Capitalism is a powerful and evil force, and they have all of mainstream media as a tool to promote it. We need to override mainstream media. A working class media would enable the people to organize and unite in their resistance to capitalism - after all, our society's working class makes up about 90% of the population. Without the work of the working class, the ruling class has nothing. If the working class was able to unite, the current ruling class would be without power and would have to concede to the demands of the working class. So as long as we have alternative messages out there, we have a start. We need people who work in the working class' favour, and you and every other supporter needs to be part of that effort. I'd be part of it too, if I wasn't going to be dead in about five minutes (unless this suicide note takes me over that, but we'll soon see). Now as far as "family values" go, forget that shit. I mean, I bet your family is really nice and all of that stuff, but don't buy into the whole family-first thing. Trust me - you want the working class to get ahead, not just your family. While your family is trying to get further ahead, inflation rises faster than minimum wage and people are out starving in the ghetto. You can do something about that. The means of production in our society are owned by fewer and fewer people all the time. The only way to get ahead in this society is to own part of the means of production. In other words, it looks like your family is going to be getting a lot poorer unless you own a fucking corporation already! That is, unless you do something about it. Talk to your friends about it. Write about it. They can't stop the working class people from speaking for the working class. It's up to you to be brave and make a difference. Be a bit less selfish and realize that you're part of a community. We can only improve our situation by working together! Well I'm off to commit suicide now- oh hold on - phone... ok well it looks like I just got some tix to "Big: The Musical". Maybe suicide can wait. Hey wait, if I've already decided not to commit suicide, why a I still writing? Heh. Maybe I can turn this into an N-Com theme issue or something and pretend it was all just a funny writing joke. .d&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&b. ___________________________________________________ |THE COMINTERN IS AVAILIABLE ON THE FOLLOWING BBS'S | |~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~| | TWILIGHT ZONE (905) 432-7667 | | 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 | | Questions? Comments? Submissions? | | Email BMC at: thebmc@home.com | |___________________________________________________| .d&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&b. Copyright 2001 by The Neo-Comintern #169-09/09/01 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.