Editorial: I love Bell Canada

Well, in this wonderful Editorial I was going to talk about the fights between me and the squirrel that lives in my yard and gnaws wood at night in my attic. But because I moved, and because when you do something like move, you want to do it with the least amount of troubles and pains as possible, you become easily fragile and hysterical when life decides to stick its nose in your affairs.

This, of course, causes the traumatic reaction of not trying to get Muffy the squirrel out of your former attic, the next time you hear him at night gnawing on some wood, with a nut and making squirrel noises (where the squirrel looks at you with a "what the fuck?" look on his face) but you grab the shotgun and turn him into Purina Chow instead.

Wednesday, April 5th

Telling Bell that I was moving and that I wanted my phone to follow me seemed like a simple thing to do. You fill out a form, you hand it to the smiling clerk that doesn't comprehend, much less speak one word of English, and you go merrily on your way.

I was expecting a simple, painless process, since I already had about a zillion other things to worry about that day, among which my taxes.

Despite the fact I got my phone form to have it disconnect on the 5th of April in one place and reactivate on the 5th of the other place, by that night I still had no service. So I called Bell.

"Well, it says here that the phone can't be activated until the 6th of April" squeals the friendly 310-Bell 'if it's broken, we may just fix it' clerk. "Well, wouldn't it be possible," I ask as nice as possible "to activate the damn thing today, since that's when I asked?" "But it says here that it can't be done until the 6th, sir". "So, how am I suppose to make phone calls and stuff?" "Are you calling from that line sir?" "If my line was working, would I call you to have you make my phone work?" "Sir, that kind of attitude is not appreciated, while I try to help you".

In the end, bureaucracy won, and the 6th it had to be.

Thursday, April 6th

So on the morning of the 6th, I pick up my phone and listen. No dial- tone. Okay. They probably have the time and seconds to which they have to activate the thing, so maybe after work I'll have a dial-tone. I can just picture the guy waiting, with a hand on the enter key ready to press it, and staring at the clock to get the precise second.

From work I try calling my old line. It gives me the number to my new line. I call the new line. I get an answering machine, which I am assuming is mine at this point. For a brief moment in my life I thought that was over and done with, and that I still loved Bell.

Sadly, when I got home, the phone had no dial-tone. I switched phones, to no avail. I call Bell once again and explain that despite the fact I asked for my line to be moved and that it was done late, it wasn't even done right. "Are you calling from that line sir?"

I bet a lot of people call Bell from their broken phones in this day and age. After singing the Happy Song and smiling, I ask the clerk at 310-Bell if they could make my phone work. She says that someone will show up at my house at 6PM, Friday.

Friday, April 7th, 6 P.M.

Friday at 6PM, after rushing from work, I am waiting by the door, because, when you live in an apartment, your phone and your main-door are all hooked to the same circuit. So, if your phone doesn't work, neither does the intercom. It's 7 o'clock and the Bell guy doesn't show up. My landlord, seeing me goes "Oh, the Bell guy came today at 2PM and fixed your phone". I thank him, run upstairs, pick up my phone and I still have no dial-tone. For some reason I am not surprised.

Saturday, April 8th

The next morning I call Bell once again (no, not from my phone, in case you're wondering). Somehow it's my fault that the guy came at 2PM instead of 6 as I was told. This despite the fact that the other lady had given that specific time, because you know, some people have to work for a living. So they schedule another appointment. I ask what time: "He'll come between 9AM and 5PM". Any fucking less precise?

Sunday, April 9th

At around 4, when I was about to leave, the Bell guy arrives. He discovers that not only that the building has got the weirdest wiring of all (from the basement of building 1, to the third floor of building 2, then back to the second floor of building 2, which is where I live). After determining that no wires were laid for my particular apartment (making us wonder, just what "disconnecting" someone meant), the guy, confused and desperate after 45 minutes of chasing cables around, takes out wire and makes his own connection from the box to the third floor, back to the second and into the wire that enters my apartment.

Yo and behold! My phone line works! I can hear the distinct and satisfying sound of the dial-tone in the back. Life is good. I can actually connect myself back to the Internet in the comfort of my messy new home, to work on my already belated issue of CoN.

Happy, I return to my former house to continue packing and boxing stuff to move over, while my girlfriend complains that I am the slowest mover that ever existed (it took me well over three weeks to move and I'm not finished yet).

Monday, April 10th: My phone line is dead again.

Ellen K. writes in regards to our last issue of CoN (what else? I mean, seriously, were you expecting her to write about the weather? Let's get serious here). You know, this Jay guy has a good point about the spelling and basic grammar in that story. And some of the other stuff, too. I think your Angie has misjudged him.

I was never taught grammar in school (honest, Chicago public schools) but I can say with complete confidence that in story #3 of this issue, this is wrong: "I crouched behind it, and slowly drug it to a display on the other side of me, " --ummm, ever hear of the word *dragged* geez

still love ya Ellen

And lastly, albeit everyone has probably forgotten about this whole thing (add me to the list), Luke de Sade replies in regards to the comments made about his article:

Hey, boys and girls. Seems that my "story" fucked some people up. I thought this zine was to have fun, not get all mad as hell and shit.

Now, to answer some things:

> Luke de Sade, despite his not liking girls, writes > back to Ange's praises:

I DO like girls! I just don't like their fluids.

And about this guy:

> I'm sorry, but what the fuck was up with that de > Sade guy? I don't usually attack people, and in > general think that I'm a pretty easy going guy. > I root for the underdog, have empathy for the > less fortunate, and pretty much believe you reap > what you sow......but how could you guys print > what this guy had to say? Perhaps I'm showing a > bit of my anal retentiveness, but this guy is a > moron. I got D's in High school English, and that > was over 20 years ago, but I still understand the > basics. > > Examples: > > "I'm one of those people that can either have sex > or don't have sex." > > "We were there up until 4 a.m. in the morning." > > "So off we went, drunk as hell, and (my two > friends who were with me) horny as dogs." > > "I tell you all these because what I'm about to > tell you guys will freak some people out." > > Those is some of the least most worst ones. > I don't know, maybe I just don't understand exactly > what your policies are in regards to the things that > people submit to you, but this guy came off as a > sick little Narcissistic jerk moron, that can't > possibly have anything interesting to say. Let alone > print. But maybe that was your point.

Ok, Mr. Grammar, first of all, this ain't fucking school. If I wanted correct spelling and grammar, I'd go back to school. So drop it already. Besides that, I'm from a fucking third world country! We're supposed to fuck up in English, aren't we?

> Perhaps I can help Mr. de Sade figure out what he > can spend that 10 bucks on. > > 1.Psychiatric treatment. His obvious fear of bodily > fluids is a dead giveaway that he is heading toward a > bad case of obsessive-compulsive disorder.

Nah, that only happens to you "gringos" :)

> 2.Analysis. Love is good. Love of one's self is good. > This guy loves himself WAY too much.

And don't you love yourself?

> 3.A spellchecker

Have one. Too bored to use it.

> 4.Remedial English courses

Third world country? Ring a bell?

> 5.A personality

Can I borrow yours?

> 6.A gun. So he can shoot himself and spare us from > any more of his drivel.

I have one, but am too stupid to use it.

> 7.A gun See # 6

Again?

> 8.A gun Did I mention that I think he should kill > himself?

Could you teach me how to do it? Maybe if I see you do it, it'll sink in.

> 9.Suzy the love doll. No more vaginal fluids! > Just his own gross, disgusting, sick, smelly, > slimy, semen.

Hey, now THAT'S an idea!

> 10.Some hand lotion. See # 9

Nah, I like it rough!

Man, have fun, dammit! That's the whole point. If you were insulted by my article, I'm very sorry. Now, can you teach me how to use that gun?

"Imperious, choleric, irascible, extreme in everything, with a dissolute imagination the like of which has never been seen, atheistic to the point of fanaticism, there you have me in a nutshell, and kill me again or take me as I am, for I shall not change."

--Donatien-Alphonse-Francois de Sade