E d i t o r i a l

ALL IT TAKES these days to register a domain is 70 dollars, a server and some minor HTML skills. And this is why, beside a ton of porn sites and lame-ass webpages, people are able to create sites such as http://www.totalobscurity.com/.

Being the poor bloke that I am, I was surfing the net looking for Blair Witch Project related pages to find some more information on the movie. One of the links had "Blair Witch Nose Cam". Perhaps a parody site? Unfortunately I wasn't so lucky.

"Total Obscurity" is the paradise of the luser of the net. A collection of meaningless information that, beside having it seen over and over to ad-nauseum in my mailbox, can be found on just any other page on Geocities. Interested in reading about spam? Well, our buddy here keeps a healthy collection of it, because it's just so damn funny. And of course, useful items like "TV Sucks!", or the ever- famous forward "Redneck's driving licence" or "Do you know Jack Schitt?". I didn't laugh the first time I got it, I wasn't laughing when I saw it there either.

But it doesn't end here. How did a search on "Blair Witch" get me here? Well, it's a page containing our hero, with a burnt nose, looking really close at his webcam. Too bad it wasn't two black eyes and a broken jaw.

The horror continues from the gratifying useless images on the main page, to the lovely HA-HA-HA funny images of cactus with an erection, to all the glory about himself and his fucking web-cam. And of course, the so-hilarious "I don't follow the masses" type of Poll in making fun of idols and bands, that last I checked, were followed and liked only by 16 years olds.

And lets not forget the amazing "People I Could Do Without: Are you on this list?". No, but I wish I was. Reading through that list, hoping to find my name and hence, giving me an excuse to burn his website down, you have to endure things like:

Guys who get chatty with me while I'm standing at a urinal. Why do some people feel the need to strike up a conversation while they shake the lizard?

Shake the lizard?

David Holt, after reading my comment in my last issue, sent the following message:

Subject: unsurbcribe

You promised that if I spelled unsubscribe incorrectly I would never be deleted from the mailing list. This is my attempt to participate in the eternal subscription program.

The smart-ass that Dave his, he used an address other than the one he is subscribed to CoN with. Unfortunately for him, he will now be receiving two copies of this issue, one to the alternate address he picked and which he will never be able to unsubscribe from.

Among the many other things that arrived in my box, was spam. With the risk of turning this Editorial into something remotely similar to Total Obscurity, I insist you visit the following:

In August of 1999, three gorgeous models disappeared in the woods while making a documentary.

Their footage was never found. Would you help us look for it?

THE BARE TITS PROJECT

Please help us find out what happened to Julia, Nikki and Becky. Solve the mystery... only at Danni's Hard Drive. For details, go to:

http://www.danni.com/danni/scrapbook/baretits/index.html

I'll leave you with a comment from BJ Sutton, in regards to our last Editorial. Enjoy this issue, delayed and short as it is.

le petit Gregoire in the last issue of CoN was correct: BJ Sutton is not a french name. I'm originally from Detroit, the true Capital of Nasty.

And, just to banish any lingering images of me, dramatically silhouetted against the Arc de Triomphe at sunset (breathing in the heady fumes of thousands of rusty and inefficient french cars), I don't live in Paris. I live in the southwest of France, near the spanish border. It's a lot warmer here, for one thing, and I've pretty much exhausted everything a city has to offer. I don't like theater, films tend to repeat themselves, I cook better than most restaurants, tv rules the urban conversation, and people are so hellbent on keeping up with the "latest" shit they turn into totally unoriginal bores, should I go on? Here they just make wine, and when the day is done they drink it. It's easy. Quiet.

For awhile I had the only computer in the region and was a minor celebrity. The bank in the next village used to use my fax machine because they didn't have one. This is all very cute until you need tech support.

So there we are for now. And, ho ho, Mr Bell was spluttering in his moustache, wasn't he? Touchy, touchy. Mr Smartypants Sutton got UP HIS NOSE.