o$$$$$$o o$o o$$o db "$$$$$$" $$ $$$$ $$ $$$ $$ $o o$$o $$$$ $$ o$$o o$$o $$$ $$$$$$ $$$$$b $$ $$ $$ d$$$$b d$$$$$. $$$ $$' $$ d$$ $$ $$ '$$ $$ d$$ $$ $$$ `$b $$P $$ $$ $$$$$$P $$ $$$$ $$$$$$P $$' ,$$ $$$ $$ $$ $$ `$$. ,$ $$ $$$ `$$. ,$ `$$$$P $P $$ $P `$$$P' $$ $$$ `$$$P' `$$P o$o. $$$ d$$$$$$o $P d d$$' `$$$ o$$o o$$o o$o o$o d$ o$$o $$. o$o $$$ d$$$$$. d$$$$$$$$$$b $$ $$$$$$b d$$$$ d$$$$b $$$$$b $$$$$$b $$$ $$$ `$b $$' $$' $$ $$ $$' `$$ $$$P d$$ $$ $$ $$ $$' $$ $$$. ,$$ $$. ,$$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$$$$$P $$ $ $$ $$ o$$$$$P `$$$$P $$ $$ ,$$ $$ $$ ,$$ $$.$$`$$. ,$ $$ $$ ,$$ $$$P `$$P $P $P $$P $P $P $$P `$$P `$$$P' $P $$ $$P The Neo-Comintern Electronic Magazine -- Installment Number 214 .... .. . . . . . . . . . . . . .. .... `""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""' Subversive Literature for Subverted People Date: November 24, 2002 Editor: BMC Writers: Pepe Marart Rank Swiney Jobe ada Heckat BMC d""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""b. ;P Featured in this installment: .b $ $ $ Steal This Town - Pepe Marart $ $ Squirrel Lovin' in New Brunswick - Rank Swiney $ $ Fredericton Fairy Tales - Jobe $ $ my trip to fredericton - ada $ $ Some Ghoul - Heckat $ $ Fredericton Coins - BMC $ `q p' `nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn' EDITOR'S NOTE (please do not read the following) Heckat and I have recently moved from Saskatoon to Fredericton and taken The Neo-Comintern with us. Well not really, since the magazine can be accessed worldwide via internet from a server that's located in Saskatoon, but there is something of the Neo-Comintern that we have taken with us. I believe that something is us. And a huge stack of print issues. Let me know if you want to order back issues. Anyway, Neo-Comintern HQ is now in Fredericton, New Brunswick, just a few metres away from the world's longest pedestrian bridge. And as Heckat and I walk across that bridge daily, contemplating writing, socialism, and the essence of the Fredericton incarnation of The Neo-Comintern, we think it might just be better to cut all ties to the rest of the world and have the Neo-Comintern just be a Fredericton-based magazine from now on. And maybe we'll only accept articles from writers in Fredericton! HAhHAhAHHAH! So here we go, issue one of the new series, just talkin about Fredericton and how fucking awesome it is. ,o$o o$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$Y$$$$b d$$$' ` `$$b d$$' Steal This Town ,$$ $$: by Pepe Marart ,$P `$n,.. . . . . . . . . . . . . ..P' `"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""' Here's a something. A tired rant. An ambient rant ... It's not so far, only some green, melted sand and cork, from here to Rio de Plata, Mendoza. Hallucinating again: This is a nice place for what it is -- what? Has a lot for its size -- what? Small city. University and government town. Fifty per cent more people that Rome's Londinium. But it's fucked something subtle. Not a Lumberton, but there's something in the ultra green river valley, the big river, the stately elms (once "The City of ...") Might be something in the water, in the aquifer in the river valley under the river a second river, a lake or pond, in the gravel bed. Deep artesian wells pulling up our water, drinking and washing water, potable ... Lampers in the river. A few lifetimes of riverboat garbage. Big river. Wide. Unused for commerce or transport 'cept for an ex-mayor's Cape Cod fishing boat converted to two deck tour boat. A joke of a boat dock these days behind the fake lighthouse. For motor boats to Grand Lake and back. No sailboats unless their masts hinge 'cause the swing bridge don't swing no more -- domesticated railway bridge now sodium arc light walking trail, trans-canaduh ... Tired. So tired. All this running around and still here. All these years of been pushing my stone up the hill. Up Hanwell Road. Up Smythe Street. Up York Street to the black kats lair. Up Regent Street to where glacier scraped rock still lies bare these thousands of years since retreat or meltdown. Up through the university campus, campuses or campi, past the archives and bookstore, past the birch grove, past the black box. Does this hill ever end? Still confused that South is uphill, doesn't make sense. South seems like it should be downhill, like the weekend from Wednesday. Zero aesthetic in the Planning Dept. Planning their retirement funds more likely. Burying brooks, springs, streams... Frogmoor Pond going under railyard, under a just approved (S)obey(s) "ready to serve" grocery+ store. Might be something in the air. Told about so now know that sickening sweet St Nackawic pulp mill air, scent, smell, odour. St Nackawic an hour upriver at the upper end of the Mactaquac headpond. Smell it! Can you smell that smell? that's the smell of weather, some sort of weather -- snow, rain -- some storm curling and coming our way. Smell it and you don't want to be here. So what is here? Don't know if the place has a name for itself or even understands. Point Ste-Anne, F'ton. Freddy Beach. Fredneckton. Fredrectum. Fredberg. Frederection. Fredddyville. Frederichill. Fredericopoulos. Fredtomb. Gotta get outta here. Moving south. Moving southwest. Gonna slip across a few lawns, jaywalk a few streets -- it's too dangerous waiting at crosswalks and intersections. Slip across a border or two. Try to get away. Try getting away. Getting some distance. Gaining perspective. Off in the distance. Distant. There I am. Gone. Can't continue. Look out the window and just stop writing, Just stop ... Steal this rant. Seal this town. Pepe Marart, over, and out. ,o$o o$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$Y$$$$b d$$$' ` `$$b d$$' Squirrel Lovin' in New Brunswick; Confessions of an Animal Lover ,$$ $$: by Rank Swiney ,$P `$n,.. . . . . . . . . . . . . ..P' `"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""' "I may be recognized as a typically maritime poet or a Canadian poet, but what I really want to be remembered for is my devotion to the Fredericton squirrels." -Milton Acorn Under a great huge acorn tree I met this hot squirrel. She flipped her tail, winked at me, chewed on her acorn. She's got spunk. Way out of my league. Not like the lean and mean prairie squirrels with the "fuck you" tiny paw in the air "everybody hates me attitude" that don't translate well in Fredericton (not only with squirrels but people as well). I was just reading Marx (Karl Marx), being a student, preparing myself for the future leadership of the people. I already knew if I became the leader of the country I would ensnare all of the UNB (University of New Brunswick) creative writing graduates, lock them in one building and make them translate Japanese TV manuals so they'd come to their senses. In the meantime this squirrel in front of Carleton hall was brazen and playful. More and more her sexy two front teeth and a mischievous smile distracted me from my political education. There are was something charming about the way she kept darting up the tree limb to escape my attention for a minute and returning as if she could not deny the natural chemistry between us. Her front paws athletic, as strong as her back paws. I found myself wondering what would her soft underbelly feel like or the soft brushing of her tail as she slipped past me. Finally she returned sat up and I realized there was a piece of paper in her mouth. I thought 'no fucking way' the hottest squirrel in Fredericton is giving me her phone number. She dropped the piece of paper and disappeared. "www.squirrels.ca" it said. As it turned out this squirrel was a complicated anarchist. She had infiltrated the traditionally based and well-funded, loyalist organization in Fredericton that shared her anti American tendencies. But she was also working on a scheme to bring down the postcolonial, imperialist masters of Britain. She was greatly influenced by the writings of Milton Acorn (the poet of the people). Her scheme was complicated involving acorn trade and Tony Blair. It was too complicated for me to follow especially since I was just learning squirrel language. I suggested George W. Bush as a more likely target with her knowledge of nuts and his obvious weakness for corn nuts. And despite my cosmopolitanism I believed one should start locally build nationally and then expend internationally. I couldn't see the relevance of her struggle to mine. I was infiltrating the UNB English aka Creative Writing Department. "All you writers are cocksucking, good-for-nothing, useless pacifist editors of mediocre literary fiction written by a dull Canadian public," she said. Even though I knew this to be true I felt the need to stand up for my kind, and myself. "Not all of us are pacifists, you know." It was useless trying to argue with a squirrel. I was deeply attracted to her deep brown eyes and swishy tail. It was never going to work. She was a revolutionary and had action and dynamics of power on her mind I just wanted to cuddle. In conclusion you don't need to be a squirrel to love a squirrel. Especially a Fredericton squirrel. I am speaking from experience. But you have to be a little suspicious of pleasing and plumb squirrels that spout revolutionary ideals. With plentiful abundance of acorns, the Fredericton squirrel would never starve. Watching her munch away at this and that, her hunger and passion can't compare to the squirrels of the prairies. Even with their inferiority complexes and diabolic ambition I know where I stand with those lean and mean specimens. The prairies are where my heart is. As for all the cocksucking, good-for-nothing, useless pacifist editors of mediocre literary fiction written by the dull Canadian public, I think we deserve what we get. ,o$o o$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$Y$$$$b d$$$' ` `$$b d$$' Fredericton Fairy Tales ,$$ $$: by Jobe ,$P `$n,.. . . . . . . . . . . . . ..P' `"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""' Back in the halcyon days of Fredericton's youth, before the Daily Gleaner printed its first erroneous story, before Lord Beaverbrook-otherwise known as Max Aitken-dropped out of St. John Law School, even before the Loyalists spilled their seed upon the hallowed grounds of the University of New Brunswick, christening what would one day become the site of the all-male residence now known as Jones House, there lived a race of tiny river people. These river people possessed gills and fins, and fed for centuries on baby squirrels, fish heads and dragonflies in order to survive. This was a time of innocence and opportunity in the land we call Fredericton, when large groups of Maliseet and Micmac Indians could still be seen hunting and fishing and occasionally defending their families against attacks from the white man. Where the Maliseet and Micmac tribes roamed, the river people were never far behind, scavenging on whatever scraps the Indian people left behind. There was much merriment among the river people for several generations, as food and water were plentiful while predators were few. As a result, they could often be seen dancing and frolicking around sandbars until well after sunrise, and when they awoke on most mornings, there would often be several darling new river babies in their midst. For you see, the river people were hermaphrodites and they were reputed to become quite amorous after eating baby squirrels. It wasn't long before these river people were seen all along the Saint John River. Until one day, an evil menace, nay a heartless parasite, a creature more wicked than Lucifer himself whom we will refer to only as Irving, invaded the province of New Brunswick with his band of sulfur-breathing demons. These demons immediately began scattering across the province and formed alliances in order to protect New Brunswick's greatest resource, the hemp plant. Irving feared that the river people were stealing these hemp plants and had his demons cast a foul discharge upon the Saint John River. The river people who lived in the northern part of the province headed south while those in the south traveled north, congregating in the village of Fredericton, the land where they originated. However, this discharge had deleterious effects, depleting the fish stocks and rendering the oldest and weakest of the river people sterile. The river people's population declined, causing the squirrel population of Fredericton to explode. Meanwhile, the river became virtually uninhabitable. The few surviving river people that remained built a raft made from bamboo and Leo Tolstoy novels discarded by UNB English grad students and moved to the sewers. Some of the river people managed to adapt to an exclusive diet of raw sewage, but they pined for the good old days of yore. After some time passed, the smartest members of the race devised a plan to sabotage the drainage pumps inside the homes of some of the villagers before the first big snowfall of the year so that they could live in the villagers' basements and forage on whatever scraps they came across. Sure enough, during the first major snowfall of 2002, drainage pumps failed en masse. Basements throughout the village were flooded and began teeming with tiny river people, who rejoiced and celebrated with a feast grander than any other generation had known, a feast of spiders, pizza crusts and dryer lint. But they didn't stop there. Once they had consumed all of these things, they moved on to bed sheets, polyester shirts and Victorian novels, and soon they had destroyed everything in their path And the villagers grew angry. Yet they didn't take their anger and frustration out on the evil Irving, who was the true source of this plague; instead, they sought revenge on the river people. They gathered the strongest vacuums and fans that money could buy in order to suck up all the floodwater and blow the river people into the darkest, driest corners of their houses, where they would suffocate and die. To this day, you can still see the boorish Irving and his malicious demons protecting the acres of hemp plants that grace the soils of New Brunswick from future races of land and river people. ,o$o o$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$Y$$$$b d$$$' ` `$$b d$$' my trip to fredericton ,$$ $$: by ada ,$P `$n,.. . . . . . . . . . . . . ..P' `"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""' my trip to fredericton I took the bus from toronto to fredericton to visit bmc and heckat. this proved to be an interesting trip. heckat met me at the bus station at eleven in the morning after I had been traveling for almost thirty hours. I was very happy to see her. I enjoyed fredericton quite a bit, mostly because it looked pleasant. I got to do my laundry at a coin laundry place. that was pretty cool. I also got to tour the university, the pubs, and meet a new friend at the liquor store when bmc and I went to buy beer. I very much enjoyed alpine beer. my favorite moment was when the queen drove by....that was the highlight of my trip. my trip to fredericton I fucking hate the bus I hate the bus this bus this bus I hate this goddamn fucking bus I may hijack it if I can't get off soon and stretch my legs my legs my legs that women eating potato salad in front of me is going to be strangled by the cord of my walkman that just ran out of batteries half an hour outside of montreal and ten hours away from nowhere I no longer understand the concept of mobility may kill myself soon if this stupid bus won't stop stop stop driving hate driving highways and grids and routes and time and swerving swerving in the dark. my trip to fredericton well hello rahula, and whom will we be stalking today? bmc and heckat's unidentifiable animated being darts from room to room, and is quite possibly the most active part of the home. she is an undercover agent, probably reporting back to secret headquarters. The time spent alone in this apartment I am aware that I am never really alone. I am considered both an unwelcome guest and an expected ally as she makes her daily rounds. my trip to fredericton sandwiches, lentil stew, popcorn, chocolate soymilk, quesadillas, hummus and pita, beer, chinese food, tacos, popcorn, beer, fajitas. my trip to fredericton the buildings are beautiful here. the word for this city is quaint. I am curious about the world on the other side of the river. why does no one go there? what is beyond the river? my trip to fredericton what struck me about fredericton is how much focus there is on independent publications. this could be because of the people I was meeting, but it seems as though everyone is very proactive when it comes to self publishing and collaborating ideas. fredericton seems to have a really positive community of writers who support and encourage each other in every kind of creative process. this is inspirational to me as a writer and I give fredericton my own personal thumbs up! my trip to fredericton you sing from an understanding that if you don't, you will wither away. you sing on the pedestrian bridge half a block away from your house. you sing apart the night and blow the air as if blowing softly on a wound. you sing and disguise it as crying. you sing with a lemon wedge in your throat. you sing with unidentified paranoia. you sing for the stranger who tucks her head down in her collar. you sing when the water isn't helping when the waves blow you sing out a strong courage you sing frightened eyes you sing with searing pain in your voice that grows roots, you sing stinging and my bones are shivering you sing and your head is melting you sing because you are drunk you sing because you are worthy you sing as though grafting voice over body, you sing when words are galloping gazelles that leap out of your mouth, startled by the frozen air. my trip to fredericton I love old fashioned sodas. whoever thought that ice cream mixed with soda could be so satisfying. heckat asks me who I hope will ask me to the sock hop. it is an appropriate question. my trip to fredericton what is there left to say. ,o$o o$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$Y$$$$b d$$$' ` `$$b d$$' Some Ghoul ,$$ $$: by Heckat ,$P `$n,.. . . . . . . . . . . . . ..P' `"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""' When I arrived in Fredericton there was a spider's web in the corner of the door frame of my new apartment. It read: Some Ghoul. I should have recognized that the resident Charlotte was warning me about my landlord, Gideon, or Gidiot, as he shall be named hereafter. Gidiot made his entrance in a horse-and-buggy wearing an old-fashioned top hat that hid his pointy ears and Chaplin pants that hid his forked tail. He ushered us into a world of debauchery when he hauled us up beside him in the wagon and took us on a tour of town. Tim Horton's, it turned out, was the first, and only, stop on his guided circuit. It was October 31st, and a woman dressed in red waldo pajamas and a witch's hat sat drinking coffee in the Tim Horton's window. My life flashed before my eyes. I fainted. Gidiot splashed cold Tim Horton's coffee in my face to revive me. Back at the apartment, my cat had already found five spiders. They were lying in a pile in the middle of the empty livingroom floor. It rained all day and hasn't stopped raining since. I blame Gidiot for all the times my laundry stayed dirty because I couldn't finish washing within the fascist hours he's dictated. I blame Gidiot for the leaking pipes, the smoke detector without a battery, the dirty dirty oven, and the greasy dust balls in the corners. Gidiot has cursed this wretched town but he won't succeed in bringing me down. I go dancing at the only psychedelic bar in town every Saturday night. I sleep until noon. I eat Mr. Noodles for supper and wash the pot immediately. I use whiz-bang font. Metallica has only been right once. Gidiot, I'm watching you, even in my sleep. ,o$o o$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$Y$$$$b d$$$' ` `$$b d$$' Fredericton Coins ,$$ $$: by BMC ,$P `$n,.. . . . . . . . . . . . . ..P' `"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""' Dear readers, It has recently been my pleasure to move to Fredericton (and I do not use the word "pleasure" lightly, for it has been a pleasure indeed). Some of the experiences I have had to-date include thoroughly traumatizing the cat by transporting her via airplane cargo bay, taking a two-hour stroll through what can only be called a monsoon, and getting into a fight with beloved roomate, girlfriend, and N-Com writer, Heckat. Regardless of these things, there has been a more-than-slight amount of things to see and do here in Atlantica. The maritimes are just as I imagined (see issue 80). Despite the fact that Fredericton is landlocked, there seems to be no shortage of unemployed fishermen, or fishers of men, as Christ called them. What a wordsmith that Christ was, even though his native language was Hebrew and not English. The End. Part II The most amazing part of living in Fredericton is the amazing coins they have here. Of all of the countries I have traveled to in my life, I have only seen comparably wonderful coins in Britain and the European Union. But forget about those countries and let me tell you something more of these amazing coins that I have already begun to collect. There are four categories: the copper category, the silvery category, the brassy category, and the multi-metal category. Most of these categories are so succinct as to only include one coin each, but the silvery category contains an unprecedented 5 coins, a record for any country I have heard of. Only three of Fredericton's silvery coins can be acquired in common street transactions, too, so remember that. The other two are wonderful and beautiful, but I will not mention those at the present time. Don't you worry, they will be discussed at some length before the conclusion of this article! Part III - The Copper Coins There is a penny. It is worth one cent. It is worth nothing. One Cent = Nothing. If you go to Fredericton, do not ever use this coin because it is a great waste of time and energy and it will only slow you down. However, if you are full of energy and also a wastrel, then please use this coin all the time, especially when it is the most unnecessary. Belgium and Fredericton both have one-cent coins, thus making them sister-cities of a sort. The one cent coin says 1 CENT on it, and the 1 and the CENT are so close that they look like the same word (1CENT). There is a maple leaf on it, which is the official leaf of Fredericton. I have even seen them on the sidewalk when walking down the sidewalk because it is fall and the maple leaves are falling on the sidewalk. On the back of the 1CENT there is a picture of the Queen Elizabeth who drove past my house in Fredericton while Prince Phillip waved at me and Heckat and ada. Queen Elizabeth is very smart and very beautiful. Part IV - The Silvery Sect Then there is the 5 cents coin which has a beaver on a dam. It is funny because it has a dam on it, which is a swear (Dam you, you stupid idiot!)! Ha ha. There are more maple leaves on it, which are different because they are small and silvery and I like them. This coin also has Queen Elizabeth on the back. In fact, all of the coins do. There is a coin of the ten cent denomination. It is my favourite by far. This is the cutest and most perfect coin in Fredericton. It is the equivalent of the 20 Euro cent coin in an aesthetic sense, and also in my good book. It has a big boat on it. The 10 cent is also the smallest coin, so if you swallow one by accident you are at the lowest risk of asphyxiating. But instead of eating them, I would suggest that you spend them or save them. The quarter is aptly named because it is worth one quarter of a dollar, the standard unit of currency! Fear not, I will be further describing the dollar later in this article. But, since we are currently discussing the quarter, let me state for the record that it has a caribou on it and it is worth twenty-five cents. I like the quarter, especially when it comes time to entertain myself. When it comes to video games, only the quarter will do. My quarter has little notches all around the outside and it was made in 1980. The 50-cent coin is not available in regular circulation, so I don't know what it looks like really. I like them. I think there is a silver one-dollar coin. V - The Brassy Birds There is a one dollar coin made of brassies called a "Loony" by Fredericton inhabitants. It has a picture of a loon on it and it is worth a dollar. So as not to be confused with the never-seen and possibly non-existent silver dollar, it is called a "Loony." It is not particularly interesting or attractive and it is best used for spending purposes as opposed to admiring purposes. But boy is this coin ever crazy. So crazy that you could say it is "Loony." I heard that these coins are available in Moncton and Cape Tormentine too, but I'm not sure if this is true or not. VI - Multi-Metal Mania Didn't think the one dollar coin was "Loony" enough? Fredericton's two dollar coin is "Twony!" The outside border of the coin is silvery, but the inside of the coin is brassy! There is a big and scary polar bear on the coin, but don't worry - it will not hurt you. And don't worry about my safety in this polar bear infested region. I have not seen anything big and scary here except for a giant hill that the city was built on. But don't worry - it's not so big and scary either. I even walked up it once. Well, I think that may be all there is to say about the coins of Fredericton in a completely objective and informative manner. But all in all, I could talk about the entire set for hours and hours and hours. I won't do this, you know - but I could. Just call me or email me at any time and we can discuss the 1967 centennial set, the varied-metal 5-cent coins of the mid 1940s, or even the 1931 "dot" penny. Or we could just shoot the shiz about whatever you'd like. I have a tremendous excess of time on my hands. BMC .d&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&b. The Neo-Comintern Magazine / Online Magazine is seeking submissions. Unpublished stories and articles of an unusual, experimental, or anti-capitalist nature are wanted. Contributors are encouraged to submit works incorporating any or all of the following: Musings, Delvings into Philosophy, Flights of Fancy, Freefall Selections, and Tales of General Mirth. The more creative and astray from the norm, the better. For examples of typical Neo-Comintern writing, see our website at . Submissions of 25-4000 words are wanted; the average article length is approximately 200-1000 words. Send submissions via email attachment to , or through ICQ to #29981964. Contributors will receive copies of the most recent print issue of The Neo-Comintern; works of any length and type will be considered for publication in The Neo-Comintern Online Magazine and/or The Neo-Comintern Magazine. - - - - -- -------===========================------- -- - - - - ___________________________________________________ |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://www.neo-comintern.com | | Questions? Comments? Submissions? | | Email BMC at bmc@neo-comintern.com | |___________________________________________________| - - - - -- -------===========================------- -- - - - - copyright 2002 by #214-11/24/02 the neo-comintern 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 Fredericton.