1609 lines
74 KiB
Plaintext
1609 lines
74 KiB
Plaintext
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"In Memory of Henry/Happy 'Typewriter Face' Gerbil, Who I Don't
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Have To Feed Any More, And Who Scott Will Never Play 'Gerbil Ball
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Soccer' In The Hall With Again."
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================================================================
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THE PURPLE THUNDERBOLT OF SPODE VOL 1, 18
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================================================================
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"Kenyon's Very Own Non Alien Run REPLIES TO: STEVENSJ
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Electronic Magazine" INTERNET: "Stevensj@VAX001.Kenyon.edu"
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* PPPPPP U U RRRRRR PPPPPP SSSSSS
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*** P P U U R R P P S
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***** P P U U R R P P S
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******* PPPPPP U U RRRRRR PPPPPP SSSSS
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********* P U U R R P S
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*********** P U U R RR P S
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***** P UUUUU R R P SSSSSS
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*****
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*****
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*****
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*****
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* **** *
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*** *** ***
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**** * *****
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************************************
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****************************************
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************************************
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**** ***** *****
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*** ***** ***
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* ***** *
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*****
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*****
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***********
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*********
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*******
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*****
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***
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*
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________________________________________________________________
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SOMETHING WHICH MIGHT, IN THE CORRECT FRAME OF MIND, LOOK SORT OF
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LIKE A TABLE OF CONTENTS
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Introduction: What, Me Worry?
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News: PURPS SOCIAL UPDATE!, Cathouse for Dogs, A _Slightly_
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(What, me defensive?) Inaccurate Star Trek Schedule, MORE!!!
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OTISian Rants: Part Two of Messeng of the Gods, Safety Memo of
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the Week, _Never_ Go Out on the Moors Alone, MORE!!
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Other Rants: RAT RECIPIES!
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-----------------------------------------------------------------
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INTRODUCTION
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("OTIS _seldom_ goes to Donato's pizzeria."-- PJI at a recent
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press conference)
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Were we still doing themes, this would be the "viewer mail"
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issue of Purps. Generally, you folks are so quiet its only FAITH
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that keeps me churning this thing out every two weeks, but as the
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"deadline" for this issue approached, I was literally flooded
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with mail. Why? Who knows? Let the staticians gabble. OTIS
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asharin. At any rate, it doesn't matter. I've given up on
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themes (sniff!).
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The 75th member of the Purps mailing list was added this
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week. I think we should all pause for a minute and make faces at
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April BEEBA. Frankly, I wasn't always confident that 75 would
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come. For a long time there we hovered at 73-74, gaining a few,
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only to loose in equal numbers (several people, added by
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"friends" (who, by the way, WILL be held responsible if my room
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gets firebombed again) dropped, and I got fed up with the "!%user
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MATUSEK cannot receive new mail" messages), but we made it, so
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HAIL OTIS!!!!
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SOON, very soon, maybe even NEXT ISSUE? MAL3 will be taking
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over this magazine for the summer months. After that the
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presitdegous title of "Purps Editor" (with the complimentary
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limo, secreatry and yacht), will be slid surreptitiously into the
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back pocket of Mike Dow, who will run the wonder that is Purps
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untill, he graduates. I don't know just who'll be taking it in
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'98 (hehe).
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This is, however, not the last time you'll be hearing from
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me (oh, darn!). after Mal's guest issue, but before the school
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year's end, I'll be cranking out at the very least, a "Purps End
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of the Year Spectacular" which at this time will feature the
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first chapter of an unauthorized biography of Kitty Kelley being
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writen by Nancy Reagan and Frank Sinatra, and twin centerfolds of
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Richard Gere and Demi More, making all of you wish passionately
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that you had terminals that can handle graphics. Until then--
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I remain
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PJI
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_______
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News
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-------
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PURPS.STUFF: REMINDER: THE SECOND "LAST BAR TREK OF THE YEAR" IS
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THIS SATURDAY, APRIL 26th (?) AT SEVEN IN MATHER LOUNGE. THIS
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SHOULD BE THE "Q" EPISODE, WHICH WE WERE JIPPED OUT OF LAST TIME.
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I _HAVE_ _NO_ _MONEY_ _FOR_ _BEER_, SO SOMEONE ELSE HAD BETTER
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BRING IT (PROBABLY THIS WILL MEAN ONLY FOUR CASES INSTEAD OF FIVE
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AND A HALF). SEE YOU THERE!
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THIS WEDENSDAY AT 7:00 PM WILL BE THE FIRST ATTEMPT AT AN OLINE
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OTISIAN CONVERSION SESSION. I'll BE E-MAILING DETAILS, BE THERE!
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OTHER NEWS:
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[The Schedule from Paramont of Star Trek Shows. The one I've been using to
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predict episodes, so we all know how accurat IT is... However, as you'll note,
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there's a possibilty that it's only off by a week... PJI]
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From: VAX001::WINS%"pj.bbs@shark.cs.fau.edu" 16-APR-1991 12:35:47.49
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To: STEVENSJ
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CC:
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Subj: Re: Paramount Air Schedule (As of 4/8/91)
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Reply-To: brown%astroatc.UUCP@cs.wisc.edu (Vidiot)
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Followup-To: rec.arts.startrek
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Organization: Vulcan Science Academy, Tau Ceti Sector
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Lines: 74
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Approved: griffith@dweeb.fx.com
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Here it is, hot off the Fax machine, the schedule until the end of the season.
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4/13/91 185R 44390.1 Data's Day
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94. 4/20/91 194 Qpid
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95. 4/27/91 195 The Drumhead
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96. 5/04/91 196 Half a Life
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97. 5/11/91 197 The Host
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5/18/91 186R 44429.6 The Wounded
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98. 5/25/91 198 The Minds Eye
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99. 6/01/91 199 In Theory
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6/08/91 187R 44474.5 Devil's Due
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100. 6/15/91 200 Redemption (Season Finale)
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Unofficial schedule:
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6/22/91 188R 44502.7 Clues
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6/29/91 189R not given First Contact
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7/06/91 190R 44614.6 Galaxy's Child
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7/13/91 191R 44631.2 Night Terrors
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7/20/91 192R 44664.5 Identity Crisis
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7/27/91 193R The Nth Degree
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8/03/91 194R Qpid
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8/10/91 195R The Drumhead
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8/17/91 196R Half a Life
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8/24/91 197R The Host
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8/31/91 198R The Minds Eye
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9/07/91 199R In Theory
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9/14/91 200R Redemption
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101. 9/21/91 201 (Start of 5th season)
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The date is the first date of satellite uplink. Paramount's official
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'week of' is two days later. Stardates will be added when known.
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--
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harvard\ att!nicmad\ spool.cs.wisc.edu!astroatc!vidiot!brown
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Vidiot ucbvax!uwvax..........!astroatc!vidiot!brown
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rutgers/ decvax!nicmad/ INTERNET:vidiot!brown%astroatc@spool.cs.wisc.edu
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============================================================================
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From: VAX001::WINS%"FAUVAX::BARKER@SERVAX.FIU.EDU" 7-APR-1991 10:08:49.53
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To: STEVENSJ
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Subj: cathoouse for dogs
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RE/SEARCH #11: Pranks! has just hit the stands. Vital reading. I enclose
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an example of one of the pranks (from Joey Skaggs). It's long
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but give an idea of the thoughtfullness of most of the book.
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``In 1976, I ran an advertisement in the Village Voice which read:
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CATHOUSE FOR DOGS
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featuring a savory selection of hot bitches. From pedigree (Fifi,
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the French Poodle) to mutts (Lady the Tramp). Handler and Vet
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on duty. Stud and photo service available. No weirdos, please.
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Dogs only. By appointment. Call 254-7878.
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I also wrote a press release about my new establishment, the Cathouse for
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Dogs: if your dog graduated from obedience school, if it was his birthday,
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if you were embarassed to come home and find him humping a pillow, or
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fearful of having a party because your dog would mount your company's legs --
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since there were cemeteries for dogs, restaurants for dogs, clothing stores
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for dogs -- all the amenities of life except the one that a dog would enjoy
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most, now for the first time for fifty dollars you could get your dog
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sexually gratified.
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This was not a mating service for the purpose of breeding; this was purely a
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sexual pleasure service. We had a wonderful bevy of bitches. We used a
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drug called Estro-dial to artificially induce a state of heat into our
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bitches who would naturally only come into heat every six months. You
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or your dog could choose any one of the bitches -- our vet would shoot her
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up -- she'd be ready to go, and you could have a drink, watch and relax,
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or have a photo taken. And if we had a bitch who was in a natural state of
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heat we would administer a contraceptive called Ova-ban, so your dog would
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have no fear of being a father.
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The response was @i(unbelievable). I had people willing to pay fifty dollars
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to have their dog sexually gratified, as well as people who came ``out of
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the closet'' -- people who wanted to have sex with dogs, both male and
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female; people who wanted to watch their dog having sex with another human
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being, and it went on like that.
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I waited for the press, and I didn't have to wait long -- the media wanted
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to see this. I got together 25 actors and 15 dogs and staged A Night In
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A Cathouse For Dogs for the media. I had, for example, an actress dressed
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in a red dress with a red bow in her hair come out with a Saluki hound with
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a red sweater and a red bow, and parade it in front of the male dogs being
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held by actors posing as customers. I, as the announcer, would say,
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``This is Sarah and Luba. Luba is a two-year-old Saluki hound. She has
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a preference for Dobermans. She's almost a virgin,'' and I went on like
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this. I had a phony veterinarian present, and I gave a lecture on dog
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copulation technique complete with photographs. I had a questionaire that
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the fake customers would fill out: how old is your dog, has it been
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inoculated for rabies and distemper, do they have a certificate, why are
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they getting their dog laid, and so on.
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The media were there -- they were the only ones who weren't actors -- and
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they just took it hook, line, and sinker. Midnight Blue from Manhattan
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Cable Channel J, which was Alex Bennet and Al Goldstein and his crew,
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who have videotaped every perverse sexual situation in the area, were totally
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grossed out by mine! They believed it. The @i(Soho News) ran a campaign
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against me. I incited the ASPCA, the Bureau of Animal Affairs, the NYPD Vice
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squad, the Mayor's Office, and various religious and humane organizations who
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all took up the campaign to put me out of business, and I became the
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whoremaster of New York.
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ABC called and wanted to do a documentary on me. I refused to allow them
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to see the cathouse for dogs because I didn't want to go through the
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@i(production) problem again. Every hoax I do is like doing a film or
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theatre piece or a commercial. It's conceived, written, produced, directed,
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staged, acted: there are locations, props -- it's very complicated. Rather
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than do that every time some other media source wanted to see the Cathouse,
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I provided them with a videotape of the dogs humping.
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ABC did what was called a wrap-around: the interview before and after, and
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interviewing other people; but the key to their documentary was the footage
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I provided them of the performance of the Cathouse for Dogs. Well, ABC
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interviewed me in Washington Square Park and I gave them an elaborate
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interview. They went out and interviewed the ASPCA, they interviewed a
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well-known veterinarian who was adamantly opposed to my use of drugs to
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induce a state of heat in the bitches, and so on.
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(What about the ASPCA?) They sent out armed investigators to get me.
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They put up a reward poster in my hallway offering a $200 reward for
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anyone who would turn me in for abusing animals. The police and various
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people from city agencies (in addition to the ordinary customers who
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phoned) were calling, all trying to get dates for their dogs to entrap me.
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I could have made a fortune -- I said I was going to franchise it, and
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have bumperstickers (``Get a Little Tail For Your Dog''). The press kept
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growing and the story became international. I didn't want customers --
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it was never my intention to defraud or deceive people for money. Deceit --
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yes, fraud -- no. To rip people off for money -- no. To make them
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think -- yes. Hoax has a negative connotation -- it's like being a con-man,
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exploiting people for money. I don't do that. [...]
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Anyway, ABC's documentary was nominated for an Emmy as the best news
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broadcast of the year, and I was subpoenaed by the Attorney General for
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illegally running a cathouse for dogs. I made my appearence at the
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Attorney General's office with an entourage of my actors and revealed it
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was a conceptual performance. Of course they were shocked, outraged --
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not believing me. I had to make a statement with a court stenographer
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and an Assistant Attorney General. When it was revealed that it was not
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true -- that it was a hoax -- ABC never retracted their story...
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====================
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Letters to the Editor
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====================
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[There's a story here, first of all, IAN sent this to a whole bunch o people.]
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From: VAX001::WINS%"pj.bbs@shark.cs.fau.edu" 17-APR-1991 17:50:11.56
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To: STEVENSJ
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Subj: Re: Writers/Critics wanted for Ink Nineteen
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Greetings. Just as the heading says, I am looking for writers/critics to
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contribute to Ink Nineteen, a progressive culture (for lack of a better
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pair of words) magazine stationed in Central Florida, USA.
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I have been a UsePhreak for some time now, and have noticed that the writing
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talent available is enormous; yet only people with access to large computer
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systems can enjoy it. Therefore, I am opening Ink Nineteen to eContributions,
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a freshly-coined term with alarming Earth-shaking implications.
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If this sounds even remotely interesting to you, please eMail me at:
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ecs62697@zach.fit.edu
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and I will send you back more information. I have not heard of any other
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magazine (or even fanzine) take this approach towards recruiting writers or
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even receiving articles, so you could be involved in the creation of something
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Truly Big. Hope to hear from you soon.
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Ian Koss
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(His Cheap Moves)
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===============================================================================
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[Then, Mal, mentioned Purps to Hhim...]
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From: IN%"ecs62697@zach.fit.EDU" 19-APR-1991 13:06:40.39
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To: barker@fauvax.BITNET
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Subj: Ink Nineteen
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Mal (short for Malaclypse?) -
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Whoa. How do I subscribe to the Purple Thunderbolt of Spode? I think I NEED
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to.
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About Ink Nineteen, I have posted additional information on misc.misc. Drop
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me an eNote if you have further questions or if you wish to contribute
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somethinto the mag. Thanks for your interest, and thanks for the issue of
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TPTOS.
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Ian
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===============================================================================
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[AND HE CONVERTED! HAIL OTIS! The final message from Ian...]
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From: IN%"ecs62697@zach.fit.EDU" 20-APR-1991 15:58:10.14
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To: barker@fauvax.BITNET
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Subj: What floor, please?
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Mal -
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Stepping off the elevator today, I noticed...but you know. Spelled in all
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caps too.
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Mojo Nixon's last album was also called OTIS.
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What about OTIS the Town Drunk on Andy Griffith?
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It's as mind-boggling as the Toyota "Bob" commercials.
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Creepy.
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|
|
||
|
|
Ian
|
||
|
|
============================================================================
|
||
|
|
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
|
|
re: The Middle Path
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Hmmm gosh. I think you've once again stumbled upon a mystical secret again.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Hmmm in India there is something called 'the Middle Way' which is a sort of
|
||
|
|
secret caravan route or a means of communication that you can cross quicky
|
||
|
|
across the country. I think it's some how tied in with the psychic
|
||
|
|
telephone system they have too. [Which on a couple of occasions has been
|
||
|
|
documented by the Brits.]
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
There is also various mystical teaching from India/Tibet about 'Choosing
|
||
|
|
the Middle Way which avoids all tresspassing.'
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Hmm saw a book in the library on secret societs. It had the Illuminati
|
||
|
|
cyphers just liek in Illuminatus!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Also was pretty whimpy and bias. Too much british holy than thou stuff
|
||
|
|
alonog with to much x-ian toxin. Still it was interesting. Talked abou the
|
||
|
|
Skoptski (sp) and how they were linked iwth all manner of other self
|
||
|
|
multilations cults like the immolators and stuff.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Hmm reading an article on Castrated opera singers. Hmm could tie in to the
|
||
|
|
big Simpson mystery I suppose.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
ONce again I'm too far away to attend. Alas I wish you luck.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Hmm I was mildy disappointed by the smallness of the purps dis. I should
|
||
|
|
try to flesh it out I suppose over the summer.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Speaking of which I'd best make an announcement.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Mal
|
||
|
|
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
|
|
Mal "Wisdom comes through age or superior
|
||
|
|
barker@fauvax.bitnet technology" --Electro the Robot
|
||
|
|
barker@acc.fau.edu
|
||
|
|
mal@umainecs.bitnet SBI-Submarine Pens ask about our OMC equipment
|
||
|
|
===========================================================================
|
||
|
|
From: VAX001::WINS%"<LBSPODIC%USTHK.BITNET@YALEVM.YCC.Yale.Edu>"
|
||
|
|
Subj: Re: Port-A-Party (TM) or: The OTISian Spring Libations Party is Moved
|
||
|
|
...
|
||
|
|
Now wait just one momento! I *do* like seeing all this chaos, so let's
|
||
|
|
move the libation party again!! This time to Saturday, June 8, 1991 !!
|
||
|
|
I might even be able to make that one - but that's not the point. Increase
|
||
|
|
entropy!
|
||
|
|
-SPODE speaks!
|
||
|
|
============================================================================
|
||
|
|
From: VAX001::AJASK "ASSOCIATION OF JAPANESE AND AMERICAN STUDENTS AT
|
||
|
|
KENYON" 15-APR-1991 10---
|
||
|
|
Subj: Otis Droppings...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
I, your trusty friend and confidante, vote stringly for a final pagan
|
||
|
|
feast with which to cap off this year. At this feast, I would, of course have
|
||
|
|
to reveal myself. The dinner sounds most appealing of all.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
The Papal Spy
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
P.S. I am sorry I have not been in touch, I have been learning the martial art
|
||
|
|
of ninjitsu so that I might be able to serve you better.
|
||
|
|
============================================================================
|
||
|
|
Sender: news@warwick.ac.uk (Network news)
|
||
|
|
Organization: Vestigal Gnome Tumbling plc.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
I heard once a famous food outlet, no names mentioned, MacDonalds, is really a
|
||
|
|
widespread infultration of our culture by alien burgers from another planet.
|
||
|
|
It seems that the, "great Tunguska Explosion", of much fame was not in fact a
|
||
|
|
meteor or a small comet, but a huge space ship. New phorensic evidence of the
|
||
|
|
region has determined that the external shell of the object was deliberately
|
||
|
|
perforated with small seeds so that it would explode upon impact with a planet
|
||
|
|
at anything more than 3000 miles per hour. It has been known for a long time
|
||
|
|
that nothing was found of a suspicious nature in the wake of the explosion, but
|
||
|
|
under the 30 years rule constricting publication of secret service information
|
||
|
|
in this country, it has just been released that SEVERAL LARGE OBJECTS WITH
|
||
|
|
CHEESE AND A SESAME BUN were seen by locals (through very powerful binoculars).
|
||
|
|
Whilst the area was cordoned off by 100,000 square miles of felled trees, a
|
||
|
|
group of inteligence men took away these items in trucks.
|
||
|
|
It was around this time that the first MacDonalds started to appear. Rumours
|
||
|
|
of tiny squeaking noises coming from the burgers to be bought at these outlets
|
||
|
|
were widely ignored until in 1986, a crammed London MacDonalds was the scene of
|
||
|
|
a burger belonging to a Mrs. Evadney Spigget, uplifting itself, turning a
|
||
|
|
bright green, radiating warmth and then disappearing into itself. Despite many
|
||
|
|
witnesses, this account is rarely reproduced with much effect.
|
||
|
|
When asked to comment, the Prime Minister said, "Grrrrrommits".
|
||
|
|
Slime
|
||
|
|
============================================================================
|
||
|
|
From: VAX001::WINS%"FAUVAX::BARKER@SERVAX.FIU.EDU" 16-APR-1991 16:40:48.18
|
||
|
|
To: STEVENSJ
|
||
|
|
Subj: reason for more alien sitings
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Summary: Why were the mid 70s the most popular time for ufo sightings?
|
||
|
|
Keywords: alien muppet
|
||
|
|
Message-ID: <ejh.671487512@utopia>
|
||
|
|
Date: 12 Apr 91 20:18:32 GMT
|
||
|
|
Sender: news@engin.umich.edu (CAEN Netnews)
|
||
|
|
Organization: The University of Michigan, Ann Arbor
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
My research (and several channellers, when plied with various beverages)
|
||
|
|
have revealed to me that the reason the seventies were such a peak UFO
|
||
|
|
sighting time is that a massive migration of ET types was in progress at
|
||
|
|
that time. The results of that migration can now be observed on reruns
|
||
|
|
of the Muppet Show, where the aliens' front-man, Jim Henson (recently
|
||
|
|
"terminated" by Operation Majority, the bastards) found inconspicuous
|
||
|
|
jobs for about 800 of them (check out that huge terraced wall full of 'em
|
||
|
|
in the opening sequence, just before Gonzo blows the trumpet).
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
The alien visitors are now in the second generation, and their offspring
|
||
|
|
star in the hit Saturday Morning TV show "Muppet Babies"...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
You can see more of the aliens starring in "The Dark Crystal", the Star
|
||
|
|
Wars movies, "Labyrinth", etc... I only hope that they don't go seeking
|
||
|
|
revenge on Earthlings for Henson's death. I hope Frank Oz, their bumbling
|
||
|
|
human liaison, can keep them in check...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
I am outta here...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
--
|
||
|
|
_______--+---| |
|
||
|
|
/ | | | Edward J. Heil
|
||
|
|
>-------- | --+---+---------------
|
||
|
|
\ ___/ o | | s83934@ucpsc
|
||
|
|
===============================================================================
|
||
|
|
From: VAX001::KURELLJJ "I AM FOR AN ART THAT RAPES THE SENSES" 16-APR-1991
|
||
|
|
01:30:17.63
|
||
|
|
To: FISH
|
||
|
|
Subj: A quote for purps!!!!!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
#1: Gee mike, a guty and a girl to massage you [Wink, nudge]
|
||
|
|
#2: I know, strong enough for a man, but made for a woman...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
This was over heard this very evening in the Gund dorm lounge, during a massage
|
||
|
|
study break that went forever as the people left...
|
||
|
|
...in pairs?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
-Jed
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
============================================================================
|
||
|
|
From: VAX001::SCHROEDER "Lemur Fun Kit (TM)" 17-APR-1991 09:46:48.92
|
||
|
|
To: JEFFE
|
||
|
|
Subj: Virgin Ears!!!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
I have been informed that over 150 prospectives will be on campus this
|
||
|
|
weekend. These people have, in all likelihood, never ever even once
|
||
|
|
heard the True Word Of OTIS! (Notice that the acronym of True Word Of
|
||
|
|
OTIS is itself "TWOO", as in "Wove... twoo wove..."!)
|
||
|
|
Anyhow.
|
||
|
|
Last weekend, as the multitudes of parents were here, I was seized by
|
||
|
|
the desire to dress up a bit funny and do something loud and strange in
|
||
|
|
a public area, just to worry them all. I didn't, except once late at
|
||
|
|
night.
|
||
|
|
I MUST HEREBY APOLOGIZE FOR THAT.
|
||
|
|
But It Is Not Too Late! We Have Another Chance! We Have Before Us A
|
||
|
|
Golden Opportunity To Use Up All The Capital Letters We Can Generate!
|
||
|
|
I propose that we EVANGELIZE!
|
||
|
|
Think of it. We can set up a table off of Middle Path in the Village,
|
||
|
|
or just take over a bench. Maybe bring a couple of milk crates down to
|
||
|
|
stand on. Aides and acolytes handing out leaflets. The rubber chicken
|
||
|
|
in a place of glory. And, oh most glorious, PREACHING to the masses!
|
||
|
|
Get a few of us down, we could easily keep that up for a few hours.
|
||
|
|
Whaddya say?
|
||
|
|
Saturday afternoon is the Earth Week music fest on Pierce Lawn. So
|
||
|
|
maybe early Sunday afternoon would be best. All we need is the time
|
||
|
|
and holy frenzied dedication of a few people, and a bunch of sacred
|
||
|
|
propaganda. I've got some good creative frenzy running, and would be
|
||
|
|
most pleased to make some Holy Handbills...
|
||
|
|
Remember that right-wing Christian evangelist that used to come visit
|
||
|
|
Middle Path and draw a crowd? He has a legacy that needs carrying on.
|
||
|
|
And besides, the Collegian-reading public is primed for a true OTISian
|
||
|
|
spectacle...
|
||
|
|
HAIL OTIS! HAIL ROTUS! HAIL LOTUS! HAIL SPODE! *pummel* HaIL b
|
||
|
|
Ro
|
||
|
|
- The Reverend Rob, w.
|
||
|
|
Screaming Prophet Of OTIS Triumphant .
|
||
|
|
.
|
||
|
|
============================================================================
|
||
|
|
[This from the usenet group Alt.Devilbunnies. I have no Comment.]
|
||
|
|
In article <1991Apr17.003555.10541@cs.dal.ca> maxwell@ug.cs.dal.ca (Chris
|
||
|
|
Maxwell) writes:
|
||
|
|
>What, precisely, is this group for?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
This is the group where evil rabbits plot the destruction of the human
|
||
|
|
race. You're not a rabbit. Get out!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
--
|
||
|
|
>>> BAN: Nuclear Power, US Intervention in The Gulf, Toxic Waste,
|
||
|
|
>>> rdc, carasso, Trash Incinerators, Nuclear Weapons, Poverty,
|
||
|
|
>>> Racism, Kent Paul Dolan, Specieism, etc... Write: Rabbits for a Better
|
||
|
|
>>> Hutch, Roscommon, MI 48653 E-MAIL: rabbit%buster2@tygra.UUCP
|
||
|
|
============================================================================
|
||
|
|
[Even more proof that some people are far weirder than we are...]
|
||
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.devilbunnies
|
||
|
|
Subject: The Plot
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Aye, this is the news group where we plot the destruction of the human race.
|
||
|
|
No HUMANS allowed!!!
|
||
|
|
That means if you're a human, get out. You can't read that!!
|
||
|
|
There. Now That we've eliminated all humans from discovering our secret
|
||
|
|
plot to rule the world, I would like to officially call this devillish
|
||
|
|
meeting open.
|
||
|
|
First article on the table: We need a ruler. Who will be king?
|
||
|
|
Second article on the table: We need a general. Who will lead our
|
||
|
|
armies of devilbunnies?
|
||
|
|
Third article on the table: We need a plot!! How are we going to rule
|
||
|
|
the world?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
As founder of the Devilbunnies' Table of Secret Plots and Destructions
|
||
|
|
(DTSPD) I would like to propose the hire of America's Funniest People's
|
||
|
|
Jack-a-lope. <As fast as fast can be, you'll never catch me!!>
|
||
|
|
Since bugs is invulnerable, I would like to put him on the table also.
|
||
|
|
Just keep in mind that he is nearing Fifty years old.
|
||
|
|
Dr. Roger Rabit, Founder of the Devilbunnies Plot, What is your opinion?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
I would also like to keep the table open for discusion on the date of the
|
||
|
|
election of the positions available. I nominate Dr Roger Rabbit King,
|
||
|
|
and myself moderator.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
So until we destroy mankind and Claw OUR way to the top of the Food chain,
|
||
|
|
CHOW BABY!!!!!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Sabastien E Marx.
|
||
|
|
A Side to the Merging Triangles
|
||
|
|
And Nominated Moderator to DTSPD
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
All Hail Devilbunnies!!!
|
||
|
|
"It is a vicious, vicious rabbit, With long pointy teeth!"
|
||
|
|
===========================================================================
|
||
|
|
----------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
|
|
OTISIAN RANTS
|
||
|
|
---------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
|
|
(in which everything worth knowing about absolutely everything will be
|
||
|
|
revealed!)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
From: VAX001::WINS%"FAUVAX::BARKER@SERVAX.fiu.edu" 4-APR-1991 10:00:00.51
|
||
|
|
To: STEVENSJ
|
||
|
|
Subj: stupid clown story
|
||
|
|
From: kibo@jec313.its.rpi.edu (James 'Kibo' Parry)
|
||
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.angst,alt.slack
|
||
|
|
Subject: Bongo, The World's Wackiest Clown(TM)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
[From a half-hour writing exercise. (C) 1991 James Parry, as if anyone
|
||
|
|
would really WANT to claim this warped little story.]
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
IT'S A CLOWN'S LIFE
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
by James Parry
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Hey Mister Clown," squealed another brat, "will you fix my
|
||
|
|
balloon?" She held up a piece of limp latex.
|
||
|
|
Screw you, I thought as my voice cheerfully said, "I'll get you
|
||
|
|
another one, sweetie."
|
||
|
|
She instantly hit high C. "DON'T CALL ME SWEETIE! ONLY MOMMY
|
||
|
|
CALLS ME SWEETIE!"
|
||
|
|
I stomped off to get the six-year-old harridan another balloon.
|
||
|
|
If she pops a fourth one, I thought, I'm going to rip off my goddamn
|
||
|
|
rainbow wig and shove it down her throat.
|
||
|
|
There were no balloons left in the box of 144 Brightly-Colored
|
||
|
|
Balloons by the Mr. Helium cylinder. Nearby a boy with grotesquely
|
||
|
|
lumpy jeans was shoving the last of them in his pocket.
|
||
|
|
"Come here, sonny, and give Bongo back his balloons," I
|
||
|
|
requested with a smile.
|
||
|
|
"Finderth keeperth!"
|
||
|
|
"Look, kid, Bongo doesn't have time to ride his magic mini-train
|
||
|
|
back to Bongoland for more balloons just now. Please give me back my
|
||
|
|
balloons," I ordered.
|
||
|
|
"Finderth keeperth, you bo-tho! Everyone knowth dat!" My pants
|
||
|
|
legs were showing speckles of brat-spit.
|
||
|
|
A little voice in my head said "Temper, temper! Count to ten!"
|
||
|
|
as I flexed my knuckles.
|
||
|
|
"Tell you what, sonny. If you give Bongo back his balloons,
|
||
|
|
Bongo will send you a live pony next Christmas."
|
||
|
|
The kid blew a raspberry--a liquid one that drenched my
|
||
|
|
knees--and waddled off. I didn't feel like following. Ever try to run
|
||
|
|
in a clown suit? It's hell. The big shoes were making my feet feel
|
||
|
|
like they were being tortured by the Spanish Inquisition, and the heat
|
||
|
|
was making the white greasepaint run down my face into my mouth.
|
||
|
|
Well, the little bratess could forget about her stinking
|
||
|
|
balloon. I headed for the men's room, peanut shells crunching under my
|
||
|
|
enormous feet, needing a rest from the roomful of joyously energetic
|
||
|
|
kids that haunted America's Second Favorite Family Restaurant.
|
||
|
|
I sat down on a toilet just to rest my legs and peeled off the
|
||
|
|
wig, which felt like it was hairier on the inside than the outside. My
|
||
|
|
scalp felt freed. I sighed in partial relief and then my nose felt off.
|
||
|
|
Before I realized it, it bounced off my thigh and fell between my legs
|
||
|
|
into the bowl.
|
||
|
|
Screw my nose. I'm not wearing that one again. Ever. Some
|
||
|
|
lucky little creep would probably fish it out tonight and keep it. They
|
||
|
|
were already covered with germs so it wouldn't hurt them.
|
||
|
|
I sighed again, stood up, and put the wig back on. It was time
|
||
|
|
to go face the demon children again, without my nose or balloons.
|
||
|
|
If only I were a kid again.
|
||
|
|
--
|
||
|
|
James "Kibo" Parry kibo@rpi.edu
|
||
|
|
132 Beacon St. #213, Boston, MA 02116
|
||
|
|
(617) 262-3922
|
||
|
|
============================================================================
|
||
|
|
From: VAX001::WINS%"FAUVAX::BARKER@SERVAX.FIU.EDU" 6-APR-1991 20:45:43.73
|
||
|
|
To: STEVENSJ
|
||
|
|
Subj: Bell Telephone Safety Memo
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
As every past or present employee of ATT or the now-divested Operating
|
||
|
|
Companies knows, Mother Bell and her offspring are SERIOUS about SAFETY,
|
||
|
|
sometimes to the point of being unintentionally comical (I once attended
|
||
|
|
a safety meeting at which we were instructed in the proper manner of
|
||
|
|
sitting down in and arising from office chairs and the safe use of
|
||
|
|
staple removers... really!).
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Following is the text of a "letter", dated November, 1970 and typed on
|
||
|
|
Illinois Bell stationery, that was no doubt composed with this fact in
|
||
|
|
mind:
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
PERSONAL AND CONFIDENTIAL
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
To: District Construction Supt. - East
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
On the threshold of a New Year, I felt the following details of a Canada
|
||
|
|
Bell accident might inspire you and your people to strive for a safer
|
||
|
|
1971.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Employee Joseph Gosshawk, the driver of a Company vehicle, was parked on
|
||
|
|
a gentle slope in Willowdale. He had a passenger; Mr. Milker, his
|
||
|
|
Supervisor. Both were wearing hard hats in accordance with Company
|
||
|
|
regulations.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Gosshawk glanced to his right to check round the vehicle before driving
|
||
|
|
off, and accidently hit his Supervisor in the mouth with the beak of his
|
||
|
|
hard hat, knocking out the latter's false teeth. The teeth struck the
|
||
|
|
hand-brake, releasing it, and came to rest behind the foot-brake pedal.
|
||
|
|
As the vehicle started to move backwards down the slope, Mr. Milker
|
||
|
|
reached behind the brake pedal to retrieve his dentures. Gosshawk at
|
||
|
|
this moment stamped fiercely on the brake pedal. The Supervisor
|
||
|
|
received a severe bite on the dorsal surface of his right hand and
|
||
|
|
sustained three broken fingers.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Although Gosshawk had acted promptly in his effort to bring the vehicle
|
||
|
|
to an immediate stop, the cry of agony from his Supervisor caused him to
|
||
|
|
release his foot from the brake. On its further downhill movement, and
|
||
|
|
before Gosshawk ultimately arrested its progress, the vehicle struck a
|
||
|
|
cable splicer, Gordon Witherspoon, who was standing over an open manhole
|
||
|
|
with a ladle of molten lead. The molten lead spilled into the manhole
|
||
|
|
onto the private parts of another cable splicer, Giovanni Lascagnia, who
|
||
|
|
was urinating into a pair of boots.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
The sudden application of molten lead to Lascagnia's private parts
|
||
|
|
caused the latter to lose his aim, and a stream of chianti-saturated
|
||
|
|
urine fell onto the exposed splice, burning through the paper insulation
|
||
|
|
and shorting out 489 pairs of cable. Unfortunately, these 489 pairs
|
||
|
|
were Ontario Hydro's alarm and telemetering circuits. This apparently
|
||
|
|
indicated a catastrophic overload at the Control Centre, causing the
|
||
|
|
Southern Ontario Power Grid to shut down.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
The switch to emergency power at Toronto Toll introduced sufficient
|
||
|
|
transients into the SAGE system for NORAD to interpret them as a massive
|
||
|
|
attack from Russia. NORAD immediately launched an equally massive
|
||
|
|
counterattack. In the ensuing conflict, the Hogg's Hollow and Highway
|
||
|
|
401 bridges were destroyed by a direct hit on the Jolly Miller's men's
|
||
|
|
toilet.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
During this time, Gosshawk drove Mr. Milker and Lascagnia to a hospital
|
||
|
|
and then attempted to return to his Work Centre headquarters, but found
|
||
|
|
both bridges missing. It then being 5:00 PM, he (on his own initiative)
|
||
|
|
drove the Company vehicle home. Nothing having been seen of the other
|
||
|
|
cable splicer, Witherspoon, for three days, a search was instituted, and
|
||
|
|
he was subsequently found in the manhole where he had conscientiously
|
||
|
|
jumped to repair the cable. It appears that Gosshawk had, in accordance
|
||
|
|
with Company regulations, replaced the manhole cover. When Witherspoon
|
||
|
|
attempted to remove the cover, he found that an Army tank had parked on
|
||
|
|
the manhole during the troop movements. He was taken to the hospital,
|
||
|
|
suffering from asphyxia, having been exposed for three days to the fumes
|
||
|
|
from Lascagnia's salami and garlic lunch and two piss-filled boots.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
The Accident Investigation Board reviewed the aforementioned facts, and
|
||
|
|
awarded Gosshawk one day's suspension for taking a Company vehicle home
|
||
|
|
without permission. It commended Witherspoon for his noble attempt to
|
||
|
|
effect repairs to the cable. The Committee observed that the whole
|
||
|
|
affair could have been avoided if Mr. Milker had used stronger denture
|
||
|
|
adhesive. On the subject of Lascagnia's injury, which has rendered that
|
||
|
|
unfortunate individual impotent, the Committee has not yet reached a
|
||
|
|
decision.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Yours for a safe and healthy New Year.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(unsigned, as you might well expect :-))
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Copies to: District Plant Managers
|
||
|
|
District Construction Supts.
|
||
|
|
============================================================================
|
||
|
|
From: VAX001::WINS%"FAUVAX::BARKER@SERVAX.FIU.EDU" 12-APR-1991 13:12:42.18
|
||
|
|
Subj: Purps submission Messenger of the Gods Part II
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Messenger of the Gods Part II
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
I woke up the next morning sprawled across my Otisian papers,
|
||
|
|
crayons scattered everywhere, pendulums still swinging. It was
|
||
|
|
morning. Voices outside reached me. I stood up and looked out the
|
||
|
|
window pushing the night vision goggles onto my forehead. There
|
||
|
|
was a crowd on the beach around something. It was big what ever
|
||
|
|
it was. I checked the envelop to see if it was still in my
|
||
|
|
pocket, grabbed a packet of Shark Bite and opened my door. This
|
||
|
|
beach business needed investigating. I don't need people snooping
|
||
|
|
around here. Enough weird stuff goes on as is.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
When I opened my door a foul fishy smell hit me like some cat had
|
||
|
|
puked up several gallons of sea food surprise on my porch. The
|
||
|
|
wind blew. It came from the sea. It must be the thing on the
|
||
|
|
beach.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
I ripped open the Shark Bite and started gnawing on the teriki
|
||
|
|
flavored shark jerky. Down the steps and onto the beach. It was
|
||
|
|
quite a crowd--mostly early morning walkers and the police. They
|
||
|
|
were all standing there looking at it. A couple were pointing.
|
||
|
|
They were overweight trekkie looking types with those retched
|
||
|
|
50/50 blend t-shirts modeled around rolls of belly fat. One had
|
||
|
|
some sort of button on with a little face on it.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Damn, the face was smoking a pipe. This was no coincidence. A
|
||
|
|
couple people looked up at me as I moved closer. Most were held
|
||
|
|
spell bound by what lay on the beach and didn't notice my
|
||
|
|
arrival.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
It was a squid. Or what as left of a squid. It must have been 50
|
||
|
|
feet long. It's sucker tentacles were wrapped around an old
|
||
|
|
corroded gun turret off a battle ship.
|
||
|
|
I glanced out the corner of my eye at the two Frop heads. They
|
||
|
|
were eying me and edging toward the stairs back up to my place.
|
||
|
|
They were up to something.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
A little kid kicked the squid. Her mother yelled at her. The
|
||
|
|
police muttered to themselves trying to keep the crowd back in a
|
||
|
|
half hearted way. Some wanted souvenirs. I decided to leave
|
||
|
|
before the papers got there. I don't like photos of me showing up
|
||
|
|
in stray places. Too many questions get asked.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
The two subgeni had gone up the stairs. Now they were heading for
|
||
|
|
my place. I pretended not to notice them darting across the lawn
|
||
|
|
toward my door.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
My land lord didn't see them either. He was coming down to the
|
||
|
|
beach to see the thing on the beach.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"What's going on?" he asked.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Some squid washed up. Pretty nifty," I replied sliding past him.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
My landlord continued down to the beach without future comment.
|
||
|
|
He was used to my jaded behavior toward odd happens. He'd long
|
||
|
|
ago stopped asked me questions about the lights in the sky and
|
||
|
|
the midnight visitors. I was quiet and paid on time so he didn't
|
||
|
|
care.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
I caught the two tubby frop heads squatting down on my porch
|
||
|
|
trying to pick my door lock. They didn't notice me. I picked up a
|
||
|
|
coconut laying on the ground and threw it at one. I hit him in
|
||
|
|
the head. He fell over with a crash into some battered lawn
|
||
|
|
furniture. The other bolted up like an electrified jack rabbit
|
||
|
|
looking in the direction of where the coconut came from. He saw
|
||
|
|
me and bolted, tripping off the porch and falling the five feet
|
||
|
|
on to the ground. Both were unconscious now.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Searching them, I discovered little. Both had been conned out of
|
||
|
|
the $20 by the Frop Heads. One had some mars attack cards but
|
||
|
|
they were full of chewing gum.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
The police were busy and no one was paying much attention so I
|
||
|
|
dragged the two over the wall on the house next door and tossed
|
||
|
|
them into the neighbors poor excuse for a pool. I never liked the
|
||
|
|
neighbors. I'm sure they'd have fun with this little scene I'd
|
||
|
|
set up.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
I went back inside and closed the blinds and looked down at what
|
||
|
|
I'd accomplished last night. The shark jerky was making me feel
|
||
|
|
sick. I got some milk out of the fridge and opened a can of tuna.
|
||
|
|
I had nothing else to eat about. Typical. Still I had no time
|
||
|
|
for shopping now.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
I went back to the Otis papers and continued me work. Pendulums
|
||
|
|
swinging, line up with pole star. Crayon markings across the
|
||
|
|
pages spread out on the floor like a mosaic. A mosaic of
|
||
|
|
information. I just had to make order out of the chaos and it
|
||
|
|
wasn't working very will.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Finally, it dawned on me. I circled the answer in black and red.
|
||
|
|
It had to the be Haystack Monument.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Out came the satellite maps on the big glossy paper--color
|
||
|
|
enhanced with infra-red overlays. There it was. I'd had a
|
||
|
|
detailed scan of it done a year ago just out of curiosity. Vague
|
||
|
|
shadows radiated out from the monument on the underground radar
|
||
|
|
scan. There was something beneath the surface. Ruins? Or who
|
||
|
|
knows what. I'd never bothered to investigate. They had been
|
||
|
|
enough trouble when they'd uncovered the fezzes on the Gobi
|
||
|
|
desert.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Damn it was far away. How could I get there in time. Something
|
||
|
|
told me ordinary means of transportation like planes and cars
|
||
|
|
would be way too vulnerable. I don't think I'd want to brave the
|
||
|
|
24 hour drive in that car of mine with the radio shooting blue
|
||
|
|
sparks all over the place.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Drastic measures were called for. I had a few favors to call up.
|
||
|
|
Now looked like a good time as any to use them.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
I pieced the phone cord back together. It immediately rang. I
|
||
|
|
picked the receiver of the hook and slammed it down again. Before
|
||
|
|
I could pick it up again it ring.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
It took me a good five minutes of fighting the ring before I
|
||
|
|
managed to get a dial tone. I dialed 0, got the operator and
|
||
|
|
began to dictate a serious of code words and orders. I'm sure it
|
||
|
|
horrified the operator no end. People were only supposed to use
|
||
|
|
this stuff in an event of national emergency like if godzilla
|
||
|
|
were attacking. This operator insisted knowing what was going on
|
||
|
|
before she'd connect me to the national defense trunk network.
|
||
|
|
Rather than argue with her or get her fired, I explained cuba was
|
||
|
|
invading. She of course believed me. After all I did have the all
|
||
|
|
the secret codes.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
The connection when through. I dialed another string of numbers.
|
||
|
|
Switches clicked and hummed and electric signals turned to light
|
||
|
|
pulses and blasted out across a cable under the ocean destined
|
||
|
|
for North africa. They were intercepted by a device, few if any
|
||
|
|
had access to, clamped to the cable deep beneath the ocean and
|
||
|
|
relayed down a line straight into the depths of the Bermuda
|
||
|
|
Triangle.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
The phone rang. Ten, twenty, thirty times before it was answered.
|
||
|
|
"Gosh dang it what is it!" said a voice at the other end. "I'm
|
||
|
|
getting fiber glass all over the phone. This had better be
|
||
|
|
important."
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"You got anything fast that can make a cruise up north like now?"
|
||
|
|
I asked not beating around the bush. This was an emergency after
|
||
|
|
all. Nice chats and greetings could be exchanged on the long haul
|
||
|
|
north.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Hmm got a couple of jet skis. Ever try to run one of those
|
||
|
|
things with a guitar slung over your shoulder?"
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Nope. Look we're going north and it's cold up there."
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Got me some surplus World War One coats. That ought to do the
|
||
|
|
trick."
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Not on a jet ski!" I yelled getting angry. "Do you have anything
|
||
|
|
else?"
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Hmm let me look," said the voice at the other end dropping the
|
||
|
|
phone. Sounds of cursing and papers being shuffled followed. Then
|
||
|
|
a door slamming and a toilet flushing. Finally the voice came
|
||
|
|
back, "Okay I got something you may not like this but it's about
|
||
|
|
all I can find."
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"What?" I asked skeptically thinking he'd found a rowboat with
|
||
|
|
one oar. It was frightening that this man was supposed to lead
|
||
|
|
the attack against the forces of the Antichrist some day.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"It's a submarine. Not as good as one of SBI's but it will do the
|
||
|
|
trick. Nuclear powered and everything. Don't you worry none. I
|
||
|
|
check it with the geiger counter the other day."
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"There were batteries in the geiger counter right?"
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Oh come on lay off it. Look I got you some transport. I'll bet
|
||
|
|
you want me to go along too! Darn it! I've got all those forms to
|
||
|
|
fill out and the copier is out of toner again," said the guy at
|
||
|
|
the other end beginning to whine.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Hey sounds fine!" I said. "Um.. won't we need some more people
|
||
|
|
to run it? Two's not enough is it?"
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Shoot! You're right. The dang this is pretty big. Where the heck
|
||
|
|
am I going to scare up a crew for it?"
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Oh you'll think of something. Don't you have any recruits for
|
||
|
|
the final battle?"
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Yeah, a couple I suppose. Rented me some help a while ago. I got
|
||
|
|
some guys visiting too. Their saucer broke down. Maybe they'll be
|
||
|
|
neighborly and help."
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Okay when can you get here?" I asked wanting to get under way.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Better make it after dark this thing is kinda suspicious
|
||
|
|
looking."
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"No time for that. Just pull out all the stops. Why not test out
|
||
|
|
some of your equipment?" I suggested.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Okay I'll see what I can brew up. Give me three hours."
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
We said goodbye and hung up. I needed to pack and maybe take a
|
||
|
|
nap.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
****
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
The phone rang. I picked it up.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Don't move we have your place surrounded!" said a voice at the
|
||
|
|
other end. For some reason I connected the voice with those two
|
||
|
|
fat frop heads I'd thrown into the pool.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Oh really now?" I said peering outside between a crack in the
|
||
|
|
blinds. The beach was swarming with trucks now. I guess they
|
||
|
|
trying to haul the squid away. "You do realize there are an awful
|
||
|
|
lot of witnesses around."
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"They can be bought off. Now open the door and toss out the
|
||
|
|
letter and you won't get hurt."
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"What letter?" I asked. I peered out of the blinds again. Way off
|
||
|
|
in the distance on the ocean a bank of fog had suddenly
|
||
|
|
materialized like a genie springing from a bottle. It was rapidly
|
||
|
|
expanding headed in my direction.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"You know very well which letter!", said the voice sounding
|
||
|
|
exasperated. Clearly there we not used to this sort of thing.
|
||
|
|
"I'll give you one minute and if you don't throw it out we'll
|
||
|
|
come in after you!"
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Hey look, could I have more than a minute. I think it got lost
|
||
|
|
somewhere. It might take me a couple minutes to find it," I
|
||
|
|
asked, looking out at the wall of fog. It was much closer now. It
|
||
|
|
spanned the sky from horizon to horizon. It was turning a weird
|
||
|
|
grey green, like tornado clouds.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Well okay. Five minutes and we come in blasting." The line went
|
||
|
|
dead.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
I hastily threw some things together into a brief case. I hoped
|
||
|
|
this weird fog would be my salvation. It was not touching the
|
||
|
|
beach. It seemed to deaden the sound of the waves and obscured
|
||
|
|
everything. The people on the beach were leaving rapidly. They
|
||
|
|
were panicked by the fog.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
I looked at the clock. I had one minute before they started
|
||
|
|
blasting. The fog rolled up across the lawn and around the house
|
||
|
|
cutting out everything in sight. All I could see out my windows
|
||
|
|
was a wall of boiling green mist.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
I jumped at a knock on my door. I pulled out one of my machine
|
||
|
|
pistols and opened the door a crack sticking out the muzzle. I
|
||
|
|
thought it might by the owner of the voice from he phone, but it
|
||
|
|
wasn't. It was something totally different.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"We have arrived with your transportation," droned a tall gaunt
|
||
|
|
men dressed in black, the green fog swirled around him almost
|
||
|
|
seeming to drip out of his black clothes. Sun glasses covered his
|
||
|
|
eyes. He looked pale. Some sort of wave of force seemed to roll
|
||
|
|
off him.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
I jumped back then opened the door. I knew who this was. We'd
|
||
|
|
crossed paths before. The man stepped inside.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"The Big E. said he'd gotten a couple saucer boys to help him but
|
||
|
|
I didn't' realize he meant you," I said shutting off the stereo
|
||
|
|
and the lights and getting my keys.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"It was necessary to be in the vicinity. We are working on the
|
||
|
|
Gulf Stream sightings. A lot of work must be done. Many minds
|
||
|
|
need to be alternate," droned the voice glancing around briefly
|
||
|
|
especially at the scattered Otisian papers all over the floor. I
|
||
|
|
wouldn't be talking them with me. I'd more or less memorized them
|
||
|
|
during my experiments.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Okay, let's go," I said opening the door and peering out. It was
|
||
|
|
useless. The green fog was too thick to see more than a foot in
|
||
|
|
front of your face. It was absolutely quiet. No waves, no wind,
|
||
|
|
no people, no nothing.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Which way?" I asked over my shoulder stepping out onto the
|
||
|
|
porch.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Just walk. It's not far," said the man in black closing the door
|
||
|
|
behind me and making sure it was locked. Slowly I stepped forward
|
||
|
|
feeling for the stairs down to the lawn. There weren't any.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"It's perfectly flat. You have nothing to fear," advised the
|
||
|
|
gaunt man walking beside me. He stared out into the green mist as
|
||
|
|
if he could see where he was going.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
We walked maybe twenty steps when my boots clanked on metal. A
|
||
|
|
figure materialized out of the gloom.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Dang it took you long enough!" said Elvis dressed in greasy
|
||
|
|
coveralls. He hastily wiped his hands on a rag and shook my hand.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"What the hell is this?" I asked totally confused. How could I
|
||
|
|
walk such a short distance and be on this metal? Something
|
||
|
|
definitely weird was going on.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Oh heck, I forgot to tell you. We got that artifact working they
|
||
|
|
gave us. You know that big magnet doohickey. It distorts space
|
||
|
|
and time. We just sort of made a tunnel in space from this here
|
||
|
|
deck over to your front door and sent someone over for you.
|
||
|
|
Doggone it. Wish I has something like that when I sang. Could
|
||
|
|
have gotten away from the fans with it."
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Doohickey? Artifact? What am I standing on anyways," I asked
|
||
|
|
kicking the metal with a boot.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"You are standing on the deck of the Nautilus Atomic Powered
|
||
|
|
Submarine that disappeared under the North Pole," announced the
|
||
|
|
Man in Black. For a second I thought he almost smiled.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"What!" I yelled.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Oh calm down. That's nothing wait till you meet the rest of the
|
||
|
|
crew," advised Elvis motioning me toward a conning tower that
|
||
|
|
loomed in the mist. It appeared to be thinning.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Crew?"
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Yeah you get to meet a real live Voodoo priest. He's got some
|
||
|
|
zombies manning the controls."
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
--Mal '91
|
||
|
|
==============================================================================
|
||
|
|
From: rtravsky@corral.uwyo.edu (Richard W Travsky)
|
||
|
|
Sent to me by a friend...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Lotus Introduces Controversial New Product
|
||
|
|
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
||
|
|
Today, Lotus Development Corporation introduced a new member of its MarketPlace
|
||
|
|
product family, MarketPlace: Surveillance. This product, intended for "law
|
||
|
|
enforcement, security, and just plain nosey organizations," ushers in the era
|
||
|
|
of what Lotus spokespook Bud Dorkar called "Desktop Political Repression."
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Any company can put citizens at your fingertips, Dorkar continued, "only Lotus
|
||
|
|
puts them in the palm of your hand."
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
The product consists of a CD-ROM and software to read it. The CD-ROM contains
|
||
|
|
information on individuals, including:
|
||
|
|
name
|
||
|
|
social security number
|
||
|
|
address
|
||
|
|
phone number
|
||
|
|
estimated income
|
||
|
|
estimated political and organization affiliations
|
||
|
|
marital status
|
||
|
|
name of spouse, if any
|
||
|
|
names of children, if any
|
||
|
|
names of pets, if any
|
||
|
|
names of other household members
|
||
|
|
known associates
|
||
|
|
gender
|
||
|
|
estimated sexual orientation
|
||
|
|
estimated race
|
||
|
|
estimated religion
|
||
|
|
criminal record, if any
|
||
|
|
magazine subscriptions
|
||
|
|
library books checked out recently
|
||
|
|
cars and boats owned
|
||
|
|
driving record
|
||
|
|
fingerprints, if available
|
||
|
|
favorite color
|
||
|
|
one thing in the whole world most afraid of
|
||
|
|
comments by previous investigators
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Users can select potential investigation subjects via a variety of selection
|
||
|
|
criteria, such as "all married environmentalists within an hour's drive of
|
||
|
|
Chicago." The selected records are then copied to hard-disk from the CD-ROM.
|
||
|
|
As an investigation proceeds, new information can be added to records, and the
|
||
|
|
user can even create new fields in the data records.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Every copy of MarketPlace: Surveillance comes with demonstration
|
||
|
|
data, based on 1930's KGB files. "We used the Russian data,
|
||
|
|
frankly, because it was so cheap," said Dorkar. "They sold us this
|
||
|
|
doesn't have much value anyway, most of the people in the database
|
||
|
|
were purged long ago."
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
After the user purchases MarketPlace: Surveillance, they send in a registration
|
||
|
|
form for real data. They then have the demo data to play with and fantasize
|
||
|
|
about, while their real data is on its way. The user must specify what region
|
||
|
|
of the U.S or other country they want data for. Each disk contains data on
|
||
|
|
approximately 12 million citizens, legal aliens, and other people. One region
|
||
|
|
comes free with the program, and others may be purchased for $100 each. "We
|
||
|
|
have the U.S., most of Central and South America, and several Asian countries
|
||
|
|
available," Dorkar said. "We will try to introduce Africa and the Middle East
|
||
|
|
in time for Christmas. We hope to bring one or two of the Canadian provinces
|
||
|
|
on board too. Hopefully, the EC (European Common Market) will be in some day,
|
||
|
|
but that's at least two years out, they're just not ready."
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Anticipating criticism of the product, Dorkar addressed security
|
||
|
|
and privacy concerns:
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
[The developers of MarketPlace] implemented a number of
|
||
|
|
controls that go far beyond traditional practices for the
|
||
|
|
security community. Besides limiting the data to what is
|
||
|
|
readily available as a matter of public record, Census data
|
||
|
|
profiling, and similar sources most governments can already
|
||
|
|
access, we have taken three additional and important steps:
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(1) We are offering the product only to legitimate
|
||
|
|
governments and businesses.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(2) We provide people with an option to have their names
|
||
|
|
removed from the database.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(3) We are educating and advising users of the proper
|
||
|
|
legal and ethical responsibilities for list usage.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
To remove their names from the database, people need only call Lotus at
|
||
|
|
1-800-328-7448, and give a Lotus operator their name, date of birth, social
|
||
|
|
security number, and why they don't want to be in the database. The Lotus
|
||
|
|
operator will then roll two dice to determine which of 25 complex and expensive
|
||
|
|
methods the person will be required to use to be removed from the database. An
|
||
|
|
exception is if the operator rolls doubles. In that case, the operator will
|
||
|
|
take all of the information over the phone, then send two guys with baseball
|
||
|
|
bats to visit your house within three business days.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
All of the people who ask to be removed are purged from the database. Their
|
||
|
|
names and social security numbers are kept on a separate list, so they will
|
||
|
|
never reappear in the standard database. The separate list is, however,
|
||
|
|
available on CD-ROM for $200, twice the regular price.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Dorkar concluded by vociferously defending MarketPlace: Surveillance, spittle
|
||
|
|
flying from his lips: "Some people argue that the information collected in
|
||
|
|
Lotus MarketPlace: Surveillance should not be available. However, this
|
||
|
|
information is really already really readily readable, either as a matter of
|
||
|
|
public record or through thousands of other lists and database sources. For
|
||
|
|
example, the FBI alone has files on literally millions of Americans."
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Access to information is one of the benefits of a free society. In developing
|
||
|
|
MarketPlace: Surveillance, Lotus and its data providers have strived to balance
|
||
|
|
the right to privacy with the freedom of information that is a hallmark of our
|
||
|
|
society."
|
||
|
|
--
|
||
|
|
Edited by Brad Templeton. MAIL your jokes (jokes ONLY) to funny@looking.ON.CA
|
||
|
|
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible. A Daemon will auto-reply.
|
||
|
|
If you don't need an auto-reply, submit to rhf@looking.on.ca instead.
|
||
|
|
============================================================================
|
||
|
|
Sender: news@demon.co.uk (C-News Owner)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Hello Everyone,
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
I've been posting quite a lot to alt.dreams, but this is my first post
|
||
|
|
here. I'd like to relate an experience I had on Christmas Day with a
|
||
|
|
view to receiving comments and interpretations. What I am about to
|
||
|
|
write is true and *not* imagination, I know the difference.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Here goes...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
It was Christmas Day, just after lunch. I deliberately hadn't eaten
|
||
|
|
too much and I wanted to be alone. I told Mum that I was going for a
|
||
|
|
walk along the river Bovey back up to Dartmoor.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
It was a lovely day, crisp and clear. The trees were beautiful and I
|
||
|
|
was really enjoying the stillness and calmness of the moors. I felt
|
||
|
|
very alone, nevertheless, and sad.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
I walked along the river for about half an hour, partly up an old
|
||
|
|
railway track. Eventually, after passing a few people I made my way
|
||
|
|
to the roadside and crossed back towards the river, stopping on top
|
||
|
|
of a little humpback bridge. My hands held the railings - which were
|
||
|
|
of iron and I looked down into the stream.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
After a while, I realized that I was becoming quite absorbed by my
|
||
|
|
surroundings. I "let myself go" and looked into the stream again and
|
||
|
|
then to the trees on either side. Quite suddenly, my consciousness
|
||
|
|
shifted down through the bridge and into the stream. I was overcome
|
||
|
|
with joy and I could feel the currents and sense the purpose of this
|
||
|
|
little river as it found it's way through the mother earth.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
The sound of the water bubbling on the stones became laughter, a
|
||
|
|
song. Nature was talking and I was understanding. The trees became
|
||
|
|
transparent and took on such vivid colours. Their presense was felt,
|
||
|
|
their personalities expressed and each one was quite a special
|
||
|
|
friend. What was I, was immersed, for the first time I belonged to
|
||
|
|
something. The stones knew, the trees understood and the stream held
|
||
|
|
me close. I could not fall.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
The song grew stronger, more beautiful and the physical world faded
|
||
|
|
from view. I was colour and sound, but most of all belonging to
|
||
|
|
everything around me. Being alone became a distant memory of my
|
||
|
|
human existence.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
At times I tried to think of myself standing on the bridge, but I
|
||
|
|
could not feel myself, I could not feel the road or the iron railings
|
||
|
|
between my hands. Everything was part of everything else; fluid
|
||
|
|
like, elastic. Forms flowing one into another. Creating, nurturing,
|
||
|
|
becoming and loving.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
For the first time in my life I felt at home.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
After half an hour or so, I managed to return again to myself. But
|
||
|
|
my focus was weak and I was unprepared. I started to walk, but could
|
||
|
|
not. The road was without substance, it started to bend, twist. The
|
||
|
|
trees were still talking to me, singing in their friendly way. It
|
||
|
|
took me about 5 minutes of intense concentration before I was able to
|
||
|
|
walk again.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
During this transitional phase, I was startled by a person walking
|
||
|
|
over the bridge. They looked at me. I wondered if I appeared
|
||
|
|
"normal" to them. I had no way of telling since my consciousness was
|
||
|
|
still out there.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
I returned home feeling uplifted, reassured that I had made many
|
||
|
|
friends. I knew that they would be with me always.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
--------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
|
|
James Roche, 2A Belgrade Rd, Hampton, Middlesex. TW12 2AZ UK
|
||
|
|
Tel: +44 (0)81-941 4262 Email:jroche@cix.compulink.co.uk
|
||
|
|
(If that fails try old address - jroche@compulink.co.uk)
|
||
|
|
============================================================================
|
||
|
|
From: VAX001::WINS%"M.S.Dow@exeter.ac.uk" 20-APR-1991 18:41:15.94
|
||
|
|
To: STEVENSJ
|
||
|
|
Subj: Put this in Purps. I'm safe in England.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
The following jokes are not at all amusing. They are, in fact, deeply
|
||
|
|
offensive to any sensitive human being, and should certainly NOT be shown
|
||
|
|
to children, maiden aunts, serious christians, serious muslims, serious jews,
|
||
|
|
serious hindus, and any of the "serious" sects of buddhism, as well as many
|
||
|
|
other religions which you may be thinking about. In fact, this entire
|
||
|
|
message should be deleted, the disk wiped, the hardware smashed with an ax,
|
||
|
|
the CA shotgunned, and the whole mess consigned to some Luddite Hell. At the
|
||
|
|
very least, don't show it to Bill.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Despite the successful purge by the House Un-American Witticisms Committee,
|
||
|
|
in the United States, the BILL JOKE continues to exist in some parts of
|
||
|
|
Britain.
|
||
|
|
Some examples include:
|
||
|
|
BILL DE BERGERAC: a low-budget anglicized version of the classic
|
||
|
|
French tale, not starring Gerard Depardieu and probably never to appear in the
|
||
|
|
US.
|
||
|
|
BILL OF BEREA: a perhaps apocryphal and VERY unfinished play by
|
||
|
|
Shakespeare, about a brooding young author forced to speak in Shakespearian
|
||
|
|
verse, played brilliantly by Sir Ian McKellen. (the smartass friend from
|
||
|
|
Massachusetts was played by Christopher Lloyd,by the way, NOT Don Knotts. Got
|
||
|
|
that Jeffe?)
|
||
|
|
The BILL TAX, an extremely divisive and unpopular suggested
|
||
|
|
alternative to the infamous Poll Tax, which was squashed in the very early
|
||
|
|
stages by the Ducks, Geese, Herons, Swans and Related Waterfowl's Amalgamated
|
||
|
|
Lobby.
|
||
|
|
and finally, THE BILL, a pretentious police drama. (no, REALLY.)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Nostalgically yours,
|
||
|
|
Grinnin Foole
|
||
|
|
===============================================================
|
||
|
|
OTHER RANTS
|
||
|
|
===============================================================
|
||
|
|
(in which absolutely nothing will be revealed at all)
|
||
|
|
Latest rat recipies.
|
||
|
|
I lied. I'm sending another rat recipe. This is the worst.
|
||
|
|
Oh no! Not *another* one!! I promise, this is the last rat
|
||
|
|
YARR (yet another rat recipe)
|
||
|
|
More ratliness.
|
||
|
|
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- 2 -*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
|
||
|
|
Date: Mon, 17 Mar 86 02:11:12 pst
|
||
|
|
From: jkh%opal@BERKELEY.EDU (Jordan K. Hubbard)
|
||
|
|
To: hackers_guild@ucbvax.berkeley.edu
|
||
|
|
Subject: I lied. I'm sending another rat recipe. This is the worst.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Well, I'm getting even for getting political and scaring me away from
|
||
|
|
hackers_guild the first time around. Milo baby, this Bud's for you..
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Probably not the last rat recipe after all (nyah nyah nyah!)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
And now for the very very latest in rat recipes from your harlem chef.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Actually, this isn't so much of a recipe as it is a hell of a lot
|
||
|
|
of fun. In fact, today we probably won't even eat what we make, but we
|
||
|
|
are in for a really good time.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
This recipe should probably not be made in your own home. A friend or
|
||
|
|
neighbor's is preferable, assuming, of course, that they're not home.
|
||
|
|
Failing this, you should probably ring some doorbells around the
|
||
|
|
neighborhood until you find someone that's not home and break into their
|
||
|
|
house. Lots of accumulated newspapers tend to indicate people on vacation.
|
||
|
|
Try these homes first.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Once you've secured an appropriate residence, you'll need the following
|
||
|
|
ingredients before you start (I won't be fooling you with unnecessary
|
||
|
|
ingredients this time, bring everything I tell you to).
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Here they are:
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
1 iron (the bigger the better)
|
||
|
|
1 spool brightly colored ribbon (christmas variety)
|
||
|
|
1 spool stiff (14 gauge or better) copper wire
|
||
|
|
6 packets of rit (you know the kind) dye. Colors of your choice.
|
||
|
|
1 container Ronson's lighter fluid (as large as possible)
|
||
|
|
1 Colt .357 magnum python or Ruger security six (depending on budget)
|
||
|
|
12 rounds of hollow point .357 ammunition
|
||
|
|
1 12 gauge pump action shotgun. Maker of your choice.
|
||
|
|
1 extra box of 12 gauge shells
|
||
|
|
1 baseball bat (wood, not aluminum)
|
||
|
|
1 pair black pajamas
|
||
|
|
1 sheet paper
|
||
|
|
1 pen (in working order)
|
||
|
|
12 little umbrellas (the kind you get in fancy drinks)
|
||
|
|
1 heavy duty blender
|
||
|
|
1 military uniform, circa World War II (the higher the rank, the better)
|
||
|
|
1 bottle black shoe polish
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Ok, we're all set. Select 10 rats from your cages, the larger the
|
||
|
|
better. Physical condition is not important this time since we're
|
||
|
|
not going to eat them. Line them up on the kitchen table and force
|
||
|
|
them to quiet down with the Rodent Pursuader (you *did* bring that,
|
||
|
|
didn't you?). Dress up in the military uniform and strap on the
|
||
|
|
loaded .357. Affecting your best Gen. George Patton accent, strut
|
||
|
|
up and down before the table and give a rousing speech. Something
|
||
|
|
along these lines is suggested:
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Men. (cough) it's been a hell of a war. (dramatic pause) And you've
|
||
|
|
been Good Soldiers!! (wave cigar) But *because* you're good soldiers,
|
||
|
|
you've always lived with the possibility of death and you've faced
|
||
|
|
it! *Like Men!* (ignore the fact that they're really rats) And I want
|
||
|
|
to say that I've been *proud* to command Men such as you! (wheel around
|
||
|
|
suddenly and salute rats) And Men, I just wanted to be the one to tell
|
||
|
|
you that that time of pride, glory and blood has come! Now!"
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Yank the .357 from its holster and start blasting away at the rats,
|
||
|
|
point blank. If you're lucky, you'll probably get three or four of
|
||
|
|
them. The rest will no doubt scatter and run for their lives. This
|
||
|
|
is where the real fun begins. Shed the military uniform and change
|
||
|
|
into the black pajamas. Blacken your face and hands with the shoe
|
||
|
|
polish and verify results in a mirror. Grab the shotgun and load
|
||
|
|
it, being sure to put a few extra shells in your pockets. Begin
|
||
|
|
the hunt. Man against rat. Feel the primal urges surging through
|
||
|
|
your bloodstream! 'Nam was never like this, no sir.. Don't be afraid
|
||
|
|
to blast away at shadows or household appliances. Total destruction
|
||
|
|
of the house is also a goal in this exercise. Using standard S.W.A.T.
|
||
|
|
house clearing maneuvers, proceed from room to room. See the rat cowering
|
||
|
|
in terror next to to wall! Feel the shotgun buck in your grip, the
|
||
|
|
tremendous
|
||
|
|
roar in the enclosed space! Watch the rat slam into the wall, simultaneously
|
||
|
|
disintigrating into a red pulpy mess of fur and bone! You feel, somehow,
|
||
|
|
deep in your bones, that this is living. This really is.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
When all rats have been terminated, you should gather up the remains
|
||
|
|
(including the ones originally shot with the .357) into a small pile
|
||
|
|
and sort them according to percentage of remaining bodily parts. Mixing
|
||
|
|
and matching is permitted.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
The larger chunks of remains should be decoratively wrapped with
|
||
|
|
the christmas ribbon and hung from various light fixtures and such.
|
||
|
|
Using the rit dye and some mixing bowls, dye some of the other
|
||
|
|
pieces different colors and stick a little umbrella into each.
|
||
|
|
These should be placed as tastefully as possible in various parts
|
||
|
|
of the house.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Smaller pieces that are recognisable as something can be wired together
|
||
|
|
with the copper wire to create totally new looking rats. Don't be afraid
|
||
|
|
to use your best anthropological creativity here. Or whatever.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
The smallest and most indistinguishable pieces should be ironed
|
||
|
|
carefully into the rug.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Anything left over should be placed into a small fireproof container
|
||
|
|
and set afire with the lighter fluid. This will add that special
|
||
|
|
aroma to the house. The smell may in fact make you hungry at this
|
||
|
|
point, so feel free to eat a few of your creations. The baseball
|
||
|
|
bat should be used on any especially tough portions of meat.
|
||
|
|
If you're particularly health-oriented you can use the blender to make
|
||
|
|
some interesting high-protein shakes.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
After you've finished and packed up your firearms (don't want to leave
|
||
|
|
*those* behind, no sir. Might need them) write a note to the appartment
|
||
|
|
dweller using the pen and paper. Something along these lines is suggested:
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Well, you bastard/bitch ( checking for gender of occupant
|
||
|
|
in closet [not always foolproof] ) I finally got even with you! And
|
||
|
|
you thought you could just dump me like that! Ha! This is only
|
||
|
|
the first action of my revenge!! Die in hell.."
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(unsigned)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
This should insure a lot of fun for quite some time afterward.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Bon Appetit!
|
||
|
|
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- 3 -*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
|
||
|
|
Date: Sat, 15 Mar 86 14:17:33 pst
|
||
|
|
From: jkh%opal@BERKELEY.EDU (Jordan K. Hubbard)
|
||
|
|
To: hackers_guild@ucbvax.berkeley.edu
|
||
|
|
Subject: Oh no! Not *another* one!! I promise, this is the last rat
|
||
|
|
recipe.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Yet Another Rat Recipe (YARR!)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Today we will be making a rat dish that's especially popular
|
||
|
|
around the holidays. Baked rat (in butter sauce) with rat fries.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
You will need the following ingredients and tools to prepare
|
||
|
|
this dish:
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
1 large mixing bowl
|
||
|
|
1 small mixing bowl
|
||
|
|
1 small saucepan
|
||
|
|
1 metal spatula (not teflon)
|
||
|
|
1 pair pinking shears
|
||
|
|
1 pair leather gloves (sturdy)
|
||
|
|
1/2 cup hot tar
|
||
|
|
1 small hatchet
|
||
|
|
6 feet of garden hose
|
||
|
|
40 1/4" diameter ball bearings
|
||
|
|
2 6" pieces of string
|
||
|
|
1 large wooden stake
|
||
|
|
1 lb butter
|
||
|
|
1 2 tsp salt
|
||
|
|
2 tbs tobasco sauce
|
||
|
|
1 tbs finely ground red pepper
|
||
|
|
1 sprig parsley
|
||
|
|
1/2 cup white flour
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Using 1/4 cup of flour, lightly dust the large mixing bowl until it is
|
||
|
|
thoroughly coated. Place aside and preheat oven to 350 deg. F.
|
||
|
|
Combine the tobasco sauce, salt and red pepper in the smaller
|
||
|
|
bowl and stir in 1/2 cup water, being careful to eliminate any
|
||
|
|
lumps.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Melt butter in saucepan and mix in the remaining flour. Carefully
|
||
|
|
add the tobasco/pepper mix in the small bowl and bring entire
|
||
|
|
mixture to a rapid boil. Remove from heat and set aside to cool.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
While waiting, select the largest rat from your cages and
|
||
|
|
examine carefully. Rat should be plump, but (here it comes) in
|
||
|
|
Good Physical Condition!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Carefully shave off its whiskers (use of Rodent Pursueder encouraged
|
||
|
|
of course) and add them to the saucepan. Holding the rat firmly
|
||
|
|
immobilized, quickly whack off its tail with the hatchet and
|
||
|
|
dip the stump into the hot tar. This will keep the rat from bleeding
|
||
|
|
to death prematurely. Note that the rat will probably make a lot of noise
|
||
|
|
during this exercise and it is generally not a good idea to have neighbors
|
||
|
|
or small children about. Do what you can to comfort the rat at this
|
||
|
|
point since it will no doubt be upset. Loud classical music is the generally
|
||
|
|
favored method in this case.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Leaving the rat to the music, add the severed tail to the saucepan
|
||
|
|
and reheat to a simmer. Throw the sprig of parsley away since no one
|
||
|
|
eats that shit anyway.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Turn off the music and confront the rat, which should be reasonably
|
||
|
|
calm by now. Carefully slip on the gloves (being careful to make no
|
||
|
|
sudden moves) and rub your hands slowly together, your face a demonic
|
||
|
|
mask in the dull red light of the dying sun as it sinks slowly below
|
||
|
|
the horizon. Lunge forward and grasp the rat firmly by the neck and slowly
|
||
|
|
choke the life out of it until it ceases to struggle in your grasp and
|
||
|
|
its tiny gasps for air are no longer heard. Lay its carcass gently on
|
||
|
|
the counter and proceed to beat it to a pulp with the length of garden
|
||
|
|
hose. Stop when it is thoroughly mashed or you are tired.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Throw the rat away since it is now obviously unsuitable for our purposes.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Select another plump rat from your inventory and inspect it in
|
||
|
|
the same fashion as the first. When its suitability has been
|
||
|
|
confirmed, tie its legs together with the string and dash it against
|
||
|
|
the wall with as much force as you can muster. Stuff the ball bearings
|
||
|
|
into the mouth of the rat until all ball bearings have been used or
|
||
|
|
rat is filled (don't be afraid to pack it).
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Impale it with the wooden stake as you might a marshmallow on a stick and
|
||
|
|
place on the top rack of your oven. Baking time is 50 minutes. Baste every
|
||
|
|
15 minutes with butter mix, basting one final time before serving.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Slice the two tails (one in sauce and on second rat) into thin wafers
|
||
|
|
and serve according to taste. You may wash the large mixing bowl and
|
||
|
|
put it away since we won't be needing it after all. Same goes for
|
||
|
|
the spatula.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Carefully extract all ball bearings while carving rat and arrange
|
||
|
|
in decorative patterns on serving dish.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Bon Appetit!
|
||
|
|
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- 4 -*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
|
||
|
|
Date: Mon, 17 Mar 86 16:36:56 PST
|
||
|
|
From: grady@cad.berkeley.edu (Steven Grady)
|
||
|
|
To: hackers_guild@ucbvax.berkeley.edu
|
||
|
|
Subject: YARR (yet another rat recipe)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Seeing that rat recipes are being exchanged in the open now,
|
||
|
|
not just passed around in dark rooms accompanied by furtive
|
||
|
|
glances, I feel ready to present my own creation, which will
|
||
|
|
hopefully equal in some way the brilliant recipes presented
|
||
|
|
earlier. (I have not had a chance to try them out yet, but I
|
||
|
|
feel sure they will live up to their descriptions). My cookery
|
||
|
|
is designed for a large dinner party. You will need:
|
||
|
|
fisherman's boots
|
||
|
|
thyme
|
||
|
|
fennel
|
||
|
|
chain-saw
|
||
|
|
mouse-spinner
|
||
|
|
putty knife
|
||
|
|
broom handle
|
||
|
|
blowtorch (or flame-thrower)
|
||
|
|
sound-proofed room furnished only by a table
|
||
|
|
parsley
|
||
|
|
Halloween sound effects record, and stereo
|
||
|
|
long SHARP knives (at least two)
|
||
|
|
large bag of rats (75-100)
|
||
|
|
rodent-reducer
|
||
|
|
cutting board
|
||
|
|
rice
|
||
|
|
dips (honey, mustard, etc)
|
||
|
|
And, of course, the Rodent Persuader.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Go into the sound-proofed room, and dump the rats onto the
|
||
|
|
floor. Many of them will already be dead from suffocation or
|
||
|
|
severe rodent bites. This is fine. Take all of these rats and
|
||
|
|
place them in the rodent-reducer, setting the dial at "Mouse" (or
|
||
|
|
if you prefer, just slice them into bits with a knife). Remove
|
||
|
|
the now mouse-sized rats and put them in the mouse-spinner (you
|
||
|
|
know, sometimes I wish they would think of the rat-lovers' needs
|
||
|
|
as well, instead of the huge bias for mice.. I have never found
|
||
|
|
a rodent-spinner of a suitable size for rats. But then, it
|
||
|
|
REALLY is FUN forcing the rats into a suitable size, by either of
|
||
|
|
the above means, although the reducer has the advantage of
|
||
|
|
keeping the rats alive temporarily). When you've got a thick
|
||
|
|
strip of rat-flesh around the inside of the spinner, remove it
|
||
|
|
and cut it into bite-size morsels.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Next put on the fisherman's boots and put on the music. My
|
||
|
|
preference from these Halloween albums in such cases is the low
|
||
|
|
moaning, but if you prefer, you can use the dog and cat fights,
|
||
|
|
or the human screams. Now, take the broom handle and sweep the
|
||
|
|
rats off the table, screaming at them. When they really get
|
||
|
|
moving, so they seem to cover the floor, start jumping up and
|
||
|
|
down. Try to squish as many as possible, concentrating on the
|
||
|
|
luxurious, almost ecstatic feel of the rats tiny bones and limbs
|
||
|
|
being crushed under your feet. As you do this, the rats will
|
||
|
|
become rather angry, and probably try to bite your feet, hence
|
||
|
|
the boots. Note: It is important _not_ to use the Rodent
|
||
|
|
Persuader to keep them under control, as we'll see in a moment.
|
||
|
|
You'll notice as you continue to leap on the scurrying creatures
|
||
|
|
that fewer and fewer of them are running around in abject fear,
|
||
|
|
and more and more of them have become encrusted in a sort of
|
||
|
|
jelly on your boots. One other point: don't let your guests come
|
||
|
|
in to enjoy the display. Unless they are a group of close
|
||
|
|
friends, you might not know if some of them are bleeding-hearts
|
||
|
|
who prize the lives of rodents over your fun.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
When you finally start getting tired, sit down and use the
|
||
|
|
putty knife to scrape the rat remains off your boots and the
|
||
|
|
floor. Put all of it into a bowl, mix it up with a little thyme
|
||
|
|
and fennel, spread on the cutting board, cut into rat-shaped
|
||
|
|
cookies (unless you suspect your guests of being rat-symps, in
|
||
|
|
which case you should probably shape them into puppies or small
|
||
|
|
waterfowl), and serve. Better yet, keep them for a late-night
|
||
|
|
snack. By leaping on the slow-moving ones, you have separated
|
||
|
|
the "men" from the "boys", as it were. This was the whole point
|
||
|
|
of the rat-crushing (apart from the fun and glory). You now have
|
||
|
|
a small group of select, fast, strong rats, ready to become the
|
||
|
|
entree in a way that will satisfy your needs and delight your
|
||
|
|
friends (although not the pinko rat-liberators).
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Now use the Rodent Persuader (we didn't use it before
|
||
|
|
because that would have defeated the purpose of jumping on the
|
||
|
|
rats) to force them to stand on their front legs (can you imagine
|
||
|
|
how hard it would be to force them to do that _without_ the
|
||
|
|
Persuader? It's not easy. Although one can be creative, for
|
||
|
|
instance spiked chain comes to mind). You now have a choice. If
|
||
|
|
it appears the Persuader has been extremely effective, you can
|
||
|
|
start up the chainsaw, hoping that the noise does not startle
|
||
|
|
them into running away, and sweep the buzzing instrument of doom
|
||
|
|
across their legs in a great arc, and, as the legs come flying
|
||
|
|
down in a rain of blood, you can leap on the helpless bodies,
|
||
|
|
hurling your torso onto them and squashing the whole bunch of
|
||
|
|
them as you let out a blood-curdling scream. Serve with rice,
|
||
|
|
and present the rat legs on the side, with appropriate dips
|
||
|
|
(mustard, honey, garlic paste, or rat putty).
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Alternately, you can observe with anticipative lust that
|
||
|
|
they are just standing there, sitting ducks, in preparation for
|
||
|
|
their destruction by your slightest whim. Savor this moment; you
|
||
|
|
will not likely experience another one quite like it. Then,
|
||
|
|
bring out the blowtorch (or flamethrower if you can afford it)
|
||
|
|
and roast them as their squeaks of terror and pain slowly die
|
||
|
|
away. Serve the rats flambe' (hopefully they will now be
|
||
|
|
unreconizable as rats) garnished with parsley.
|
||
|
|
________________________________________________________________
|
||
|
|
THE PURPLE THUNDERBOLT OF SPODE ISSUE # 18
|
||
|
|
----------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
|
|
Neither censored nor edited. Deal.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"If I ever find religion, this will be it."-- an unidentified prospectus on
|
||
|
|
middle path durning the OTISian Revival Meeting Monday....
|