___________ __ _______ \__ ___/| |__ ____ \ \ ____ ____ | | | | \_/ __ \ / | \_/ __ \/ _ \ ______ | | | Y \ ___/ / | \ ___( <_> ) /_____/ |____| |___| /\___ > \____|__ /\___ >____/ \/ \/ \/ \/ _________ __ __ \_ ___ \ ____ _____ |__| _____/ |_ ___________ ____ / \ \/ / _ \ / \| |/ \ __\/ __ \_ __ \/ \ \ \___( <_> ) Y Y \ | | \ | \ ___/| | \/ | \ \______ /\____/|__|_| /__|___| /__| \___ >__| |___| / \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ .......... ......... ........ ....... ...... ..... .... ... .. . . . . . . . . .. ... .... ..... ...... ....... ........ ......... .......... 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 4 3 We Are the New International February 25th, 2001 Editor: BMC Writers: Gnarly Wayne BMC d""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""b. ;P Featured in this installment .b $ $ $ Jibbitty Jabber - Gnarly Wayne $ $ 16th Century Jests For 21st Century People- BMC $ `q p' `nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn' EDITOR'S NOTE (please do not read the following) It is not often that we have two articles in the Neo-Comintern that are as similar to each other as these two are. Both are bold attacks on today's society and both jibbitty-jab at your funny bone. It's amazing. It's like that time that there were two articles by me and Gnarly Wayne and they were both funny and stupid and... wait, that was this issue. No, wait, that IS this issue. This issue is almost like every other issue we've done so far, but it is especially like this issue. Almost exact, except for this little mark right here --------. | "~" | ^ | ^ | | `--------. .--------------------------. `---. | | | | | | | | | | .------------------' .--------------|-----------' | | | | | `--' | | `-------------------' So like it or love it, the choice is yours. d""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""b. ;P JIBBITTY JABBER... NO NO... NOT YOUR FUNNY BONE .b `q by Gnarly Wayne p' `nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn' "More Tang?" asked Sir Whitman. "What?" said the Other. "Is your brain just a box or can it be opened and things stored within it?" pressed Sir Whitman. "Oh, I see your point now," and they laughed and they laughed and they laughed until their wives got home. "Hey! What the hell is going on here? Laughing?" scorned the wives. "uhhhhh.....yeah?" replied Other. They all blurst out into laughter, except the wives, who were really pissed off. The wives tore off their business suits, revealing a witches garb underneath. "A ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha," cackled the witches. You know how like witches cackle? Well, yeah, it's just like that sentence up there. The witch-wives cast a spell upon our two heroes. Sir Whitman go nothing done to him, but Other's fate was much much worse! Other was now known as Smee! He is one of being Other no longer! Be Smee! Be Smee! "Noooooooooooo!" said Smee. "Hey, it's not so bad, Smee," said Sir Whitman. "Check this shit out. Now your name is one letter smaller. Whenever paper and ink are used in your name now, it will save on ink, which in turn will save the environment and lower oil prices. You are actually a hero, Smee!" Three days later at the Smee parade, the witch-wives cackled in the bleachers. And just like most great men, Smee was assassinated while taking a big ole shit in the shitter. Sir Whitman quickly called the town emergency phone number, 1-900-LLCOOLJ. "Hello, 1-900-LLCOOLJ?" "This is 1-900-LLCOOLJ." "1-900-LLCOOL?" "Yo." "We gots problems at the ole sawmill!" "Let me tell you what I do when I'm chillin' in my crib." "No, it's an emergency." "Yo." "Grrrrrr," Sir Whitman growled and hung up the phone. "Looks like I'll never be able to resurrect Smee. Oh well, poop on him." Sir Whitman was last seen driving northbound on route 66. If anyone happens to see him, please tell him to come home so that I can finish the story. Thank you. d""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""b. ;P 16TH CENTURY JESTS FOR 21ST CENTURY PEOPLE .b `q by BMC p' `nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn' The 16th century was a time of hope and innocence, and I think that the people of the 21st century can learn something from the people of that time. Our day is one of pain and anguish, but the 1500's were different: they were times of hospitality and love of life, and I believe that to be entirely due to the style of language and the jokes of the era. In the 16th century there was a punishment of death and a fifty dollar fine for anyone who could not tell a good joke, and that is why people didn't spend their time trading stocks and employing people at minimum wage. There was no war or ignorance or sickness or death in those times, just a society filled with jesters and other funnies. Work was secondary and this is reflected in the high level of sophistication in that era's wit. We of the 21st century need desperately to return to that distant time, and to help with the transition I have written a few sample jokes for all of you to take notes on and then you can begin composing some of your own. These are relevant to 21st century life, and I am sure you will be delighted by the truth and sincerity that they hold. There was a man of Gotam the which dyd buy for hys computere a mouse. Whan hee returned home, hee dyd say to it, a horson synce thou art a mouse thou art in danger of beyng consumed by the cat. And hee dyd kyll and flaye the cat. And to thys daye, the cat dyd not eate the mouse. Thaere was a man of Gotam that had the smok of the cracke in an abandyoned buylding. Hee was smokyng whan hys rocke dropd throvgh the boardes of the floor. A horson, sayed he, it hath falln through the cracke wherefore I cannot care for it. A busynes man of Gotam dyd walke aborde an ayrplane. Hee became anger and sayd he, if thov art ayrplane then thov art of plane ayr and therfor I canst not see thee. But hee dyd see it. Theare was a yongue man of Gotam the which should go woing to a yongue fair maid and he achyued AIDS. A venguance upon it, sayde hee, it is no aid to me but in sooth a hyndreance. Than the man procedyd to woo the younge fair maid. On a tyme theare was a man of Gotham and he did bvy at Nottyngeham a shandalier. And as he carryd it sayde he, a horson, thou art supposed to be lyght, but thou art indeede heauy. Thou hast not done thy job and art trvely fyred. He than set fyre to it. Can you hear it? There is a new sound in the air. It is the sound of peace and wisdom, and the jokes are the exact tools that we need to help forge the way to a brighter future. So I urge you to learn this style and to create manuscripts of your own intellectual masterpieces. The opportunity is yours, so take control and join forces with all of the other 16th century jest-tellers of the world to help make it a better place for everyone. .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 | | Email BMC at: thebmc@home.com | |___________________________________________________| .d&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&b. Copyright 2001 by The Neo-Comintern #143-02/25/01 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.