,,ggddY""""Ybbgg,, ,agd""' `""bg, T H E N E O - C O M I N T E R N ,gdP" "Ybg, ,dP" ""` ,dP" _,,ddP"""Ybb,,_ .s*""*s .s*"*s. ,8" .+$ '""' `"Yb, .P' $ `.d' `b ,8' .+$$$$ssss+. sssss "'d' .sssP d' `b db. ,8' .+$$$$$$$$$$$$$$+. $$$$$ d' ,P' d' s*s $ d' `b d.+$$$$$$$$$$$$$$`*$$$$+.$$$$$$$$$ $ :$ d'.P .Pd' $ _ 8`*$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ o`*$$$$$$$$ T. `b. :$ TsP .Pd' $ .+P"*+. 8 `*$$$$$$$$$$$ OOb.`*$$$$$ T. `^**sT. .Pd' . $ .+P' :P 8 `*$$$$ YOOOObooi `b. $ T. .P'd' .P $P' .P' 8 `*$ "OQQQO" `TsggsP `TssP' d' .PT. . .P' Y, i. aP ,P d .P :$b+.d' .P' `8, "Ya aP" ,8' d; .P .d' .P' `8, "Yb,_ _,dP" ,8' `*TP .d' .P' `8a `""YbbgggddP""' a8' d; .P' `Yba adP' `*TP' "Yba adY" `"Yba, ,adP"' `"Y8ba, ,ad8P"' E L E C T R O N I C M A G A Z I N E ``""YYbaaadPP""'' .-. t h e l i t e r a r y m o l o t o v c o c k t a i l .-. / \ .-. .-. / \ / \ / \ .-. _ .-. / \ / \ `-------\-------/-----\-----/---\---/-\---/---\-----/-----\-------/-------' \ / \ / `-' `-' \ / \ / \ / `-' `-' \ / `-' I N S T A L L M E N T N U M B E R 2 5 3 `-' S E P T E M B E R 7 , 2 0 0 3 B M C , E D I T O R - I N - C H I E F FEATURED IN THIS INSTALLMENT: Waylon Japsem: Accused - Gnarly Wayne The Dim Light of the Corridor - Margarina Cataclysma The BMC's Guide to Dimensions and the Immateriality of the Real World _/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_ EDITOR'S KNOWTE Dear folks: What we have here is an issue of momentous occasion. That's all I'll say for now. I will also add that issue 253 bears the N-Com stamp of approval. That's right, it's good enough to print. And this issue is BEYOND good enough. Gnarly Wayne and Margarina Cataclysma get swivvy on the stylus and digital alphanumeric-symbol-entering devices. It's very very funkay. And very very very very good. P.S. I have an English degree. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ \"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._ _.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/ " " " " " " " """"" " " " " " " " _/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_ Waylon Japsem: Accused by Gnarly Wayne _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ \"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._ _.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/ " " " " " " " """"" " " " " " " " The crowd gathered at the town auditorium murmered as the meeting was brought to order. They were about to solve the mystery of a 30 year old murder case, or an "old file" as us D.T.'s called em. The man accused was a 84 year old Waylon Jaspem, who had several mental illnesses, the most prominant of which were meglomania and the crazies. There was no new evidence or motives or any of that, but here we were anyhow. Mayor Tom Brown nodded for everyone to quiet down before beginning his speech. "Hey guys, we're all here today to talk about how guilty this guy is. I'll open the floor to some general questioning. Floor preference goes to those with the biggest mouths and the most warped senses of reality. Close mindedness is also an asset." Doris Sampson spoke up first. "This...this... animal... NO, this m..m..mm..mmmm.m. monster! He must be put out of my misery!" "Perhaps we can use torches and pitchforks on this monster!", cried out Farmer Jake, who hadn't been farming since '92. "No, no, you guys have got it all wrong. I've known Waylon for up and over 40 some odd years and he could never murder anyway. He's about as guilty as you are all uncivilized.", said Bane McDermott, who burnt down the local church in '63. "I don't think he was even living here when the murder took place. He was overseas fighting bravely for our freedom in the secret wars!" "Hey guys, if what Bane says is true, we can't possibly convict Waylon," said Mayor Brown. Even though what he said made total sense, he didn't really know what he was talking about. Samantha Spenzer stood up and looked directly at the stage. "Are you sure? I mean, I got all pumped up this afternoon when I heard that we'd be all be getting together as a community and playing god with someone's life. I mean, look, I even put on my special diamond earrings and everything." A thin man leaned over to Samantha and whispered something into her ear. Samantha nodded at him and spoke again. "Yes, and Keith here brought his spear-gun. A spear-gun he hasn't been able to use since he lost his ability to hunt sharks and other harmless water creatures." A portly man by the name of Craig Kennedy stood and took off his Mack Truck baseball cap. "Yessir, me and the missus here were sure hoping for some bloodshed if you would be so oblidged. We even named our unborn daughter Justice in honour of this event." A tear appeared up in Tom Brown's eye. He was truly moved. After he dabbed his sockets with his embroided silk hankerchief, he found his voice and put it back in his throat. "Hey guys, let's just let this guy go and stuff." They all had to agree, though it didn't really matter because Waylon had already escaped in his hovercraft. _/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_ The Dim Light of the Corridor (Paranoid Fantasy #5) by Margarina Cataclysma _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ \"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._ _.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/ " " " " " " " """"" " " " " " " " "This Fucking Thing," he muttered to himself, staring at its luminous brilliance in the dim light of the corridor. It hummed faintly. "Fuck," he said, impatiently, "Doubloons." "Fuck," he said to himself, "it's what, five-thirty now?" He consulted his watch for truth. "Maybe that Ingrid is still there." And he walked down the hall to her door, which was closed, which he knocked upon anyway. He stood there for a nearly interminable length of time, waiting for her to answer, which she did not, reading the lame comics that she or someone had taped on and near the door. The door knob jiggled but did not turn when he tried it. "Fuck," he said to himself again, jingling in his pocket the several Euros of change that he held there. He walked back up the hallway. He shot a hostile glance at the machine. He took a paper from his pocket and busied himself with reading it. He did not hear the footsteps approaching. Two sea captains strode by, engaged in a heated debate in a language he did not understand. He shook himself alert, and dashed after them: "Hello, Pardon me!" he cried. The two stopped and turned slowly to face him. He made three steps toward them, palms up, while they shifted their weights from foot to foot, hands on cutlasses. A parrot, which the shorter of the two carried on his shoulder, cried, "Whadda-ya-want, Uh-Oh, Uh-Oh, Whadda-ya-want". Rather flustered by this proxy speaker, he said, brightly, "Oh, never mind, please, I thought you were someone else!" He giggled nervously. The two men squinted at him, snorting loudly through their flared nostrils: "Arrr." "Stupid, Stupid, Uh-Oh." He stepped backward several paces and waited till the captains had turned and they and the parrot were out of sight, around the corner. He ran back to the machine nervously, leaned against the wall, oozing an invisible sweat from his forehead. He thudded his head against the wall softly, saying to himself, "Stupid, Stupid." He turned on the machine, reading its labels and examining its slots and cavities. He tried to slip his hand up under the flap but of course the flap was completely inflexible. He was trying to pull the thing away from the wall to see if perhaps there was a way in from the back, when three women, their heads covered almost completely by lace manteaus, clicked up on impossibly high heeled shoes. The three stopped, skittishly, not sure if he were a terribly evil man or merely a minor felon, and fluttered their fans disapprovingly, lowering their eyebrows at him sternly. He bellowed rudely, "What! Whadda-ya-want!" and the three simultaneously gave him the evil eye. He shuddered, remembering that it was in fact change that he needed, and chased after the three women, who were by then fleeing from what they must have supposed was a madman, or perhaps the very devil incarnate. Just before they boarded the elevator, he yelled, "Hey do you have change for Euros??" They stopped, turned, just for an instant, then all three moved like one, in a rustle of black fabrics, onto the elevator. Just as the doors were sliding shut, he saw the prettiest of the three stretch out her hand to him, but, although he lunged at the opening, he was too late and his chance was lost. He stood, stunned, in front of the closed elevator doors for some time. He blinked, shook his head, and turned on his heels to make his way back to the machine. "Surely," he thought to himself, "Surely someone else will have change." He pulled from his pocket the Euro change, and counted 7 Euros 62 cents. He thought he probably had some bills in his wallet, too. He probably had, well, almost 30 Euros. "How ironic," he said wryly to himself, "that I should feel like a beggar or a thief!" By the time he finished this rumination, he was back at the machine. He said to himself, "If I don't get change soon I'll just go back to the bathroom and drink from the toilet." And he slumped down with his back to the machine, its faint glow silhouetting his slouching form. A rotting leper approached him and said, "Hey! ya know they're not gonna let ya sleep there." "Whaaat??!! I'm just waiting for change, I don't plan on sleeping here!" he said back, defensively. "Oh, really," said the leper, plopping himself down also, "me too." "Listen," he said, "I just need change. Do you have a doubloon? I'll give you twice what its worth in Euros." The leper squinted at him suspiciously, coughed, scratched, coughed again. "I ain't got a bloody wooden nickel, chump. If I did, I'd be on the next boat to Haiti. Eh? Arrr." And he put himself to coughing for real. "Oh great. Just great." To himself he said: "Now I've got a fucking half-dead leper hanging around. Who the hell is gonna take me seriously when I've got a leper hanging around?" And he stood up, sidled along the wall, trying to escape the stench that had lodged itself near the machine. To the leper, he said, "Uh, well, you know, I kinda gotta be getting back to work now. I guess I'll see you later." And he left before the coughing fit was over. He walked down the hallway, turned left, turned left again, went up the stairs, walked around the fourth floor for a while. Stopping at the bank of windows which faced west opposite the elevators, he looked out over the city at the dwindling light. He looked at his watch. "SEVEN!" he was surprised. He really needed to find someone with doubloons soon. He had to get back to work, "Goddamn it, all I want is a cola!" "Why does everything have to be so difficult around here!!" The End. _/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_ The BMC's Guide to Dimensions and the Immateriality of the Real World by BMC _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ \"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._ _.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/ " " " " " " " """"" " " " " " " " If you have ever seen a used D-Cell batteries, worn a D-Cup bra, or seen a 3-D movie, you've probably wondered what the "D" stands for. So have I. If anyone knows what any of these mean, please email me at BMC@neo-comintern.com. Well, I guess that's all I have to say. Thanks, bye. Part II I finally figured something out about D- dimensions. In fact, immediately after writing my article, I realized the true dimensional essence of our physical world. It's not hard to understand. I'll explain. There are eight dimensions, all of which work in conjunction with one another to create stable physical matter. Real simple here. Any and every object existing within physical reality exists in and through all of these dimensions. Even you. "LIST 'EM, BM!" 0: ABSENCE: Before discussing any of the dimensions, I should give a tip of the hat to the absence of dimension. The absence of dimension is referred to as a point. A point is an immaterial, theoretical position. However, if a point has any size to it, it has assumed physical shape and now begins to infringe on dimensions! Beware of this! 1: LENGTH: Now that you've contemplated the absence of dimension, try spicing it up! Take a point, make another point, and draw a line between them! VOILA! You have one dimension: Length. Unfortunately, you still don't have a material object, because a line has no other dimensions, such as width, and so cannot be physically interacted with. 2: WIDTH: Now we're getting somewhere. Take a line and indicate another point outside of that line, and you have a plane. A plane must have at least three points. Imagine that your doorway is a four-pointed plane. The plane is immaterial, and you can walk right through it. And if you can't walk through it, make sure to open the door first- the door has depth, so it is not a plane. 3: DEPTH: It's why your foot didn't pass through the door (unless you kicked it really hard). Any solid object has three spatial dimensions. If you take a plane, designate a point outside of the plane, fill it all in, and you will end up with a solid object that can be physically interacted with. Pyramids consisting of four three- pointed planes are the most simple three-dimensional objects. Do you think the ancient Egyptians contemplated this? I do. NOTE: A dimensional object is not rigid and can be expanded in any direction, so long as its shape does not infringe upon any other dimensions. A line can expand from being two dots by being lengthened, so long as the extra point is on the same course as the initial line and does not alter the line's direction. If the line were to bend, it would take on an extra dimension and become a three-pointed, two-dimensional object. A two-dimensional object can consist of more than one line, as long as all lines lie on the same plane. A three-dimensional object can be expanded in any of three dimensions. Objects characterized by having the first three dimensions would still not exist in the real world without existing within the boundaries of TIME. 4: TIME: If an object never existed, does not exist, and never will exist, it cannot be considered part of the real world. Therefore, for an object to exist, it must exist within the boundaries of time. Time may not seem to work in the same way as the first three dimensions, but it in fact does. Each dimension described up to this point is essentially a measurement between two points. Each dimension works in conjunction with others and, in doing so, increases the number of dimensions an object has. A one-dimensional object has at least two points (line). A two-dimensional object has at least 3 points (triangular plane). A three-dimensional object has four points (pyramid). Well, move a three-dimensional object from one point to another and you have time. It is the exact same object, perhaps, but it now exists in a different place. For an object to exist in a sequence of states and places is the essence of time. If everything stopped moving, time would cease. If time stopped existing, existence itself would cease. 5: POSSIBILITY: A possible object can occupy the same space as another possible object. Although it is generally maintained that two bits of matter cannot occupy the same multi-dimensional location, perhaps more than one possible object can. Is it possible for two objects to occupy the same time and space in separate possibilities or alternate worlds? Who knows. Possibilities may actually be possible, but could also be purely theoretical. 6: BREADTH: This might be the same as width. Still, it kind of counts as a dimension. When you eat bread, you can probably measure it with this. 7: HEIGHT: I don't know anything about this one. Probably not real. I have framed the dimensions here in an order from 0-7, and so young people may think of the dimensions as being evolutionary. I must stress once again that for an object to exist it must contain all of these dimensions. Any incomplete combination of these objects is impossible in the real world. The dimensions are units for measuring objects, not instructions for creating them. So please, do not try to create your own seven-dimensional objects. The writer of this file takes no responsibility for injuries, either physical or emotional. The writer does take credit for life-improving awesomeness and having a good time with dimensions. Well that's it, young world. I hope this greater understanding of dimensions has helped you to change your life around, get off the street, buckle down, and get good grades. It's my responsibility to the kids of taday. Your friend and mentor, BMC p.s. please send nude pictures .-. .-. / \ .-. .-. / \ / \ / \ .-. _ .-. / \ / \ `-------\-------/-----\-----/---\---/-\---/---\-----/-----\-------/-------' \ / \ / `-' `-' \ / \ / \ / `-' `-' \ / `-' `-' 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 AVAILABLE ON THE FOLLOWING BBSES | |~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~| | 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 | |___________________________________________________| | The Current Text Scene : http://www.textscene.com | |___________________________________________________| .-. .-. .-. .-. .-. .-. .-. .-. .-. .--/---\---/---\---/---\---/---\---/---\---/---\---/---\---/---\---/---\--. `-' `-' `-' `-' `-' `-' `-' `-' `-' `-' copyright 2003 by #253-09/07/03 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 Canada. By Canadians. And a couple Others.