4834 lines
228 KiB
Plaintext
4834 lines
228 KiB
Plaintext
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Sunlight Through The Shadows
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Volume II, Issue 1 January 1st, 1994
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Welcome........................................Joe DeRouen
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Editorial......................................Joe DeRouen
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Staff of STTS.............................................
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>> --------------- Monthly Columns ---------------------<<
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STTS Mailbag..............................................
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Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS News.....................
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The Question & Answers Session............................
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Answer Me!.....................................Liz Shelton
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My View: Healthcare.........................L. Shawn Aiken
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Upcoming Issues & News....................................
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ÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿ Advertisement-Channel 1 BBS
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>> --------------- Feature Articles --------------------<<
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A Plausible Model for Space Combat............Robert McKay
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STTS Survey Results............................Joe DeRouen
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ÿ Advertisement-Exec-PC BBS
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>> ------------------- Reviews -------------------------<<
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(Movie) Geronimo: An American Legend.........Bruce Diamond
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(Movie) Beethoven's 2nd......................Bruce Diamond
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(Movie) Wayne's World 2......................Bruce Diamond
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(Music) Now You Are My Home/Cliff Eberhardt....Joe DeRouen
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(Music) Spare Ass Annie/William S. Burroughs...Liz Shelton
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(Music) Alapalooza/Weird Al Yankovic.......Heather DeRouen
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(Book) Lady Slings The Booze/Spider Robinson..Joe DeRouen
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(Book) The Adept/Kurtz & Harris...........Thomas Van Hook
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(Book) Mr. Murder/Dean Koontz.............Heather DeRouen
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ÿ Advertisement-Legend of The Red Dragon
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>> ------------------- Fiction -------------------------<<
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The Caravan.....................................A.M.Eckard
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He Comes on Ancient Winds.....................Robert McKay
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Enokrad's Tail..............................L. Shawn Aiken
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ÿ Advertisement-T&J Software
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>> ------------------- Poetry --------------------------<<
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Perspective................................Thomas Van Hook
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Irony...............................................Tamara
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The Real Inheritan................................Jim Reid
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Borodino Landing..............................Mark Denslow
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I Fear......................................Patricia Meeks
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What We Say....................................J. Guenther
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Choked Out Blossom..........................Michie Sidwell
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Open Wide....................................David Ziegler
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ÿ ÿÿÿÿAdvertisement-Chrysalis BBS
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>> ------------------- Humour --------------------------<<
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Top Ten List...................................Joe DeRouen
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Curmudgeon.......................................Al Ruffin
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You're Had A Happy NYE If..........J. DeRouen & A. Unknown
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>> ----------------- Information -----------------------<<
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How to get STTS Magazine..................................
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** SPECIAL OFFER!! **.....................................
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Submission Information & Pay Rates........................
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Advertiser Information (Businesses & Personal)............
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Contact Points............................................
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Distribution Sites........................................
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Distribution Via Networks.................................
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End Notes......................................Joe DeRouen
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. . . . .
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ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÛÛÄÄÛÛÄÄÛÛÛÛÛÛÄÄÛÛÛÛÛÛÄÄÛÛÛÛÛÛÄÄÛÛÄÄÛÛÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
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. . . ÛÛ ÛÛ .ÛÛ ÛÛ. ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ . .
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ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÜÜÜÜÜÜÄÄÜÜÜÜÜÜÄÄÜÜÜÜÜÜÄÄÜÜÜÜÜÜÄÄÜÜÜÜÜÜÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
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. . ÜÜ .ÜÜ. ÜÜÛ ÜÜ .ÜÜ . ÜÜ . ÜÜ . . .
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ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÜÜÄÄÜÜÄÄÜÜÄÄÜÜÄÄÜÜÄÄÄÄÄÄÜÜÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÜÜÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
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. . . . . . . . .
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. . . . . . . .
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ÄÄÄÄÄÛÛÄÄÄÛÛÄÄÛÛÛÛÛÛÄÄÛÛÄÄÄÄÄÄÛÛÄÄÄÄÄÛÛÄÄÛÛÄÄÛÛÛÛÛÛÄÄÛÛÛÛÛÛÄÄÛÛÛÛÛÛÄÄÄÄÄ
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. . ÛÛÛÜ.ÛÛ .ÛÛ . . ÛÛ .ÛÛ ÛÛ . ÛÛ. ÛÛ .ÛÛ . ÛÛ ÛÛ .ÛÛ .ÛÛ .
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ÄÄÄÄÄÜÜßÜÜÜÜÄÄÜÜÜÜÄÄÄÄÜÜÄÄÜÜÄÄÜÜÄÄÄÄÄÜÜÜÜÜÜÄÄÜÜÜÜÄÄÄÄÜÜÜÜÜÜÄÄÜÜÜÜÜÜÄÄÄÄÄ
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. ÜÜ. ÜÜÜ .ÜÜ . ÜÜ ÜÜ. ÜÜ . ÜÜ . ÜÜ . .ÜÜ .ÜÜ ÜÜ.ÜÜ .
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ÄÄÄÄÄÜÜÄÄÄÜÜÄÄÜÜÜÜÜÜÄÄÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÜÜÄÄÄÄÜÜÜÜÜÜÄÄÜÜÄÄÜÜÄÄÜÜÄÄÜÜÄÄÄÄÄ
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. . . . . . . . . .
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. . . . . . .
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ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÛÛÄÄÄÛÛÛÛÛÛÄÄÛÛÛÛÛÛÄÄÄÛÛÄÄÄÛÛÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
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.Sunlight Through ÛÛÛ. ÛÛ ÛÛ. ÛÛ ÛÛ. ÛÛ ÛÛ . . ú
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. The Shadows . ÛÛ . ÛÛ .ÛÛ ÛÛ. ÛÛ . ÛÛ ÛÛ . .
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ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÜÜÄÄÄÜÜÜÜÜÜÄÄÜÜÜÜÜÜÄÄÄÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
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.January 1st . ÜÜ . ÜÜ . ÜÜ . ÜÜ . . .
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. . . ÜÜ . ÜÜ . ÜÜ. ÜÜ . .
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ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÜÜÜÜÄÄÜÜÜÜÜÜÄÄÜÜÜÜÜÜÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÜÜÜÜÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
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. . . . . . (c)1994,JD
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Welcome
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Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
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All rights reserved
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Welcome to Sunlight Through The Shadows magazine! In this issue, as well
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as in the future, STTS will strive to bring you the best in fiction,
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poetry, reviews, article, and other assorted reading material.
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STTS Magazine has no general "theme" aside from good writing, innovative
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concepts, and the unique execution of those concepts.
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STTS wouldn't have been possible without the aid, support, and guidance
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of three women:
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Inez Harrison, publisher of Poetry In Motion newsletter. Her's was the
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first electronic magazine I ever laid eyes upon, and also the first such
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magazine to publish my work. She's given me advice, and, more
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importantly, inspiration.
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Lucia Chambers, publisher of Smoke & Mirrors Elec. Magazine and head of
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Pen & Brush Network. She gave me advice on running a magazine,
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encouragement, and hints as to the kind of people to look for in
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writers.
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Heather DeRouen, my wife. Listed last here, but always first in my
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heart. She's proofread manuscripts, inspired me, listened to me, and,
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most importantly, loved me. Never could I find a better woman to live
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life by my side, nor a better friend.
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Now that that's said and done... Again, welcome to Sunlight Through The
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Shadows Magazine! I hope you enjoy it.
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Joe DeRouen
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STTS Editorial
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Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
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All rights reserved
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First and foremost, Happy New Year to each and every one of you!
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1993 was a year of mixed emotions for me. A lot of good things happened
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to me and mine, as did a lot of bad things. Mostly, for me, 1993 was a
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year of change.
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We saw a democrat take the presidency for the first time in twelve
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years. (and do a pretty decent job, in this publisher's opinion) We saw
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a lot of turmoil around the world. We saw a lot of changes, both
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locally, nationally, and world-wide. Changes are what makes the world go
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around, I suppose.
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In my personal life, I realized the 10 year ambition of putting up a
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BBS. Starting a electronic magazine has been an ambition of mine for
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only about 2 years, but one just as important and one that I managed to
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fulfill quite nicely. In 1993, I managed to have a few more stories and
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articles published, and work my way towards making a living as a writer.
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I'm not quite there yet, but I'm getting closer.
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1993 saw my wife Heather continue to do battle against cancer. The
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doctors tried a lot of different treatments, with varying degrees of
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success. I'm confident that she'll beat the disease and live a long,
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fulfilling life at my side. It's just something I *know*.
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With this issue, we start Volume II of the magazine. Thank all of you
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for supporting the magazine thus far, and I hope you'll stick with us
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for future issues to come.
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Happy New Year!
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Joe DeRouen, Dec. 22nd 1993
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The Staff and Contributing Writers of Sunlight Through The Shadows
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------------------------------------------------------------------
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The Staff
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---------
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Joe DeRouen............................Publisher and Editor
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Heather DeRouen........................Book Reviews
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Bruce Diamond..........................Movie Reviews
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Liz Shelton............................Answer Me Column
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Randy Shipp............................Movie Reviews
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Gage Steele............................Feature Articles
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Tamara.................................House Poet
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Joe DeRouen publishes, edits, and writes for STTS magazine. He's had
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poetry and fiction published in several on-line magazines and a few
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paper publications as well. He's written exactly 1.5 novels, none of
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which, alas, have seen the light of publication. He attends college
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part-time in search of that always-elusive english degree. In his
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spare time, he enjoys reading, running his BBS, collecting music,
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playing with his five cats, singing opera, hunting pseudopods, and
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most importantly spending time with his beautiful wife Heather.
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Heather DeRouen writes software for the healthcare industry, CoSysOps
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Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS, enjoys playing with her five cats,
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cross-stitching, and reading. Most of all, she enjoys spending time
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with her dapper, charming, witty, and handsome (not to mention modest)
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husband Joe. Heather's help towards editing and proofreading this
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magazine has been immeasurable.
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Bruce Diamond, part-time pseudopod and ruler of a small island chain
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off the coast of Chil‚, spends his time imitating desk lamps when he
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isn't watching and critiquing movies for LIGHTS OUT, his BBS movie
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review publication (now syndicated to over 15 boards). Bruce started
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reviewing movies for profit in 1978, as part of a science fiction
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opinion column he authored for THE BUYER'S GUIDE FOR COMICS FANDOM
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(now called THE COMICS BUYER'S GUIDE). LIGHTS OUT, now a year old, is
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available through Bruce's distributor, Jay Gaines' BBS AMERICA
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(214-994-0093). Bruce is a freelance writer and video producer in the
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Dallas/Fort Worth area.
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Liz Shelton works in an office all day, but by night she pokes around
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on her computer (to include a large portion of BBSing), and practices
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her guitar (she needs a LOT more practice). Liz likes to write when
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she gets the notion, as long as she doesn't have to be too serious.
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Randy Shipp is a sometimes-writer who specializes in half-finished
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works, an idea he decided was chic and the sign of genius after
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hearing about some unfinished symphony. The generous offer from Bruce
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Diamond to join him in publishing (plus free movie passes!) led Randy
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to take up movie criticism. When he's not picking movies apart, he's
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showing conservative political thinkers the error of their ways,
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reading, or playing bass or the guitar (depending on the day of the
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week) He occasionally works selling computers, too. When he grows up,
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he expects to teach high school history.
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Gage Steele, illegitimate love child of Elvis Presley and Madonna, has
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been calling BBS's since the early seventies. Having aspired to write
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for an electronic magazine all her life, Gage is now living the
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||
American dream. Aged somewhere between 21 and 43, she plans to
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eventually get an english degree and teach foreign children not to
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dangle their participles.
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There is very little known about Tamara, and she prefers to let it
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remain that way. She's a woman of mystery and prefers to remain hidden
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in the shadows of the BBS world. (Enigmatic, don't you think?)
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Contributing Writers
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--------------------
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Shawn Aiken............................Fiction
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Lucia Chambers.........................RIP Cover
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Mark Denslow...........................Poetry
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A.M. Eckard............................Fiction
|
||
J. Guenther............................Poetry
|
||
Jim Reid...............................Poetry
|
||
Robert McKay...........................Fiction
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Patricia Meeks.........................Poetry
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Al Ruffin..............................Humour
|
||
Michie Sidwell.........................Poetry
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Author Unknown.........................Humour
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Thomas Van Hook........................Poetry
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David Ziegler..........................Poetry
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L. Shawn Aiken dropped out of college when he realized that they
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couldn't teach him the two things he wanted to do, live successfully,
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and write. He had to find out these things all by himself on the
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road. Thus he became a road scholar. After spending his life hopping
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country to country, state to state, he now feels confident in his
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abilities and is working on his literary career. His main endevour is
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to become successful in the speculative fiction area, but he enjoys
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writing all forms of literary art.
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Lucia Chambers, thirty-something, shares SysOp duties of Pen & Brush
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BBS with her husband John. Aside from running a BBS and a network of
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the same name, Lucia publishes Smoke & Mirrors, an on-line/elec.
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magazine which features fiction, poetry, and recipes. She works as a
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consultant in the Washington D.C. area and also writes for a living.
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Mark Denslow is a student at Saint Chrles Borromeo Seminary in the
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Religious Studies Division in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He is
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working toward his Cerificate in Religious Studies and Roman
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Chatechetical Diploma. He hopes to be admitted to their Master of Arts
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Degree Program after completing the Cerificate and Diploma. He enjoys
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Poetry, Genealogy, Computing, and Religion.
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A.M.Eckard started out writing short fiction and poetry in college and
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then drifted away from it for twenty years. He spent that time
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enamored of becoming a "Renaissance Man". He became a generalist in a
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time of specialists and is finally getting back to writing. He can be
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reached through the Internet as arthur.eckard@the-spa.com.
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Grant Guenther, sometimes known as J. Guenther, confesses to be from a
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long-lost Martian colony, but in-depth investigations reveals that he
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was born and raised in a small but well-to-do community called
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Hartland in Wisconsin. A senior, he has written several collections
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of poems, and won many awards from his high school literary magazine,
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including 1st place for poetry and short-short fiction. He is the
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editor-in-chief of the school newspaper and writes as a humor
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columnist (or at least he thinks so).
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Jim Reid is a hard-working federal employee who lives in Virginia with
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his lovely wife Kris and two equally pretty daughters. He manages
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people for a living, programs shareware for the challenge, and writes
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poetry to vent the stresses created by the other two activities.
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Robert McKay was born in Hawthorne, California, one of the few native
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Californians in existence. He calls the area north of Goffs home,
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though he currently lives in Marlow, Oklahoma, and has in fact lived
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in Texas and Oklahoma since 1980. The setting for several of his
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stories comes from the desert west of Needles, where he grew up. He
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has one wife and two daughters, meaning he's seriously outnumbered in
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any argument. He writes mostly science fiction, with some horror
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thrown in - Lovecraftian horror being his favorite, followed by
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non-conventional vampire stories. He's been published in three
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elecmags - Sunlight Through the Shadows, Smoke & Mirrors, and Ruby's
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||
Pearls - and is currently waiting on the publication of two science
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fiction novels on disk.
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Considering herself a "closet writer" Tricia Meeks has spent most of
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her life writing stories and poetry that no one ever sees ...until
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now! Inspired by her friends, she has finally screwed together her
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courage and let her poetry be exposed to the public realm. Outside of
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writing, Tricia is a professional psychic, sings at Karaoke Clubs and
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has dance for 20 years of her life. Her other interests include
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camping, karate, reading, playing the keyboard occassionally, BBSing,
|
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working in finance, and spending time with her dog and cat, Ringo &
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B.J. and riding her horse Sudanna in Waxahachie. She is single and
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has lived in Dallas all her life.
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Michie Sidwell lives with his mother about 25 miles south of
|
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Washington, DC., in the large shopping town of Waldorf, MD. He spends
|
||
a lot of time in nightclubs in DC that cater to the gothic/alternative
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music scene. Working for a art supply store, Michie spends his free
|
||
hours with his computer and writing poetry. He plans to attend college
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||
in the near future.
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Thomas D. Van Hook, a sargent in the Air Force, currently lives in
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Germany with his wife and new baby. Although he enjoys the beautiful
|
||
countryside there, they are all looking forward to coming home for a
|
||
visit this winter. A poet for several years, Thomas delves into the
|
||
essence of his works with characteristic clarity and honesty.
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Author Unknown (oddly enough, his real name) has had several stories,
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||
poems, novels, plays, and pieces of artwork published throughout the
|
||
world dating back to the dawn of man. So far, he hasn't received one
|
||
red cent in royalties.
|
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David's first poetry was a small collection that he gave away to a few
|
||
friends. He then started writing Satirical Prose and found it a great
|
||
stress reliever. He lives in Sacramento with his wife Gloria and two
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||
cats. They spend a considerable time traveling which gives him fodder
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||
for the keyboard. Writing to David is a kind of cleansing it is
|
||
something that when he has to do it he has no choice. By the same
|
||
token, he couldn't write on demand if you put a gun to his head.
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ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
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°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² Monthly Columns ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
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|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
STTS Mailbag
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
[Each month, we'll pull a letter or two out of our mailbag and see what
|
||
we wind. We reserve the right to edit for clarity and space, of course.
|
||
All letters will be answered, though may not necessarily appear between
|
||
these electronic pages.]
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Joe:
|
||
|
||
Well, it's about time I wrote you a note concerning SUNLIGHT THROUGH THE
|
||
SHADOWS. It's a good, solid entry into the world of electronic
|
||
magazines, and I'm not just saying that because you publish my work,
|
||
feeble as it is.
|
||
|
||
Thought I'd take some time to reflect on the December 1993 issue,
|
||
starting with "Yule," by Brigid Childs. Brigid does a great job of
|
||
explaining holiday symbols as derived from pagan times (her
|
||
"Halloween" article in the October issue was equally informative), but
|
||
I still find myself yearning for more. I would have liked a treatise
|
||
on *how* and *why* the early church incorporated the pagan symbols,
|
||
the historical hue-and-cry that arose from both sides over the
|
||
appropriation, and the present-day deniability that certain born-
|
||
agains, Pentecostals, and Holy Rollers (fundies, tonguies, and
|
||
rollies, according to a friend of mine) have attached to these self-
|
||
same symbols. But that wasn't the point, was it? I'm looking forward
|
||
to Brigid's piece on the vernal equinox, sure to appear in your March
|
||
issue, right? (Hint, hint.)
|
||
|
||
"State of the Art For Awhile": I started on VIC-20s, too, but never
|
||
got into the online community until my C-64 and its "blazingly-fast"
|
||
1200 baud modem. One point in your article that I'd like to pick at,
|
||
though: you state your wife's company bought her a Twincom 9600
|
||
modem, then a paragraph later you say that lightning paid a visit to
|
||
*your* Twincom 9600 (after you had appropriated it for the BBS).
|
||
Already taking advantage of Texas' community property laws, hmmmm?
|
||
|
||
Survey -- Movie reviews only placed sixth out of nine categories?
|
||
Maybe I need to spice them up, somehow . . . start reviewing adult
|
||
movies, perhaps, or .fli, .gl, and .dl files from adult BBSes. Wotta
|
||
ya think?
|
||
|
||
Movie Reviews -- Remind me to proofread, willya? Thanks.
|
||
|
||
CD Reviews -- Yer startin' ta sound like a PR flack, Joe. Gonna go
|
||
work for a record company soon? <grin> Wendy Bryson's review of the
|
||
Vince Gill CD was too short, though -- it gave me no real flavor for
|
||
the album.
|
||
|
||
Book Reviews -- Okay, you've given me a taste, but for some reason,
|
||
I'm not compelled to read JUMPER. Robert's piece, on the other hand,
|
||
has some meat to it, with something to say about STAR TREK books.
|
||
I'll disagree with him on one point, however: ST novels are regarded
|
||
as canon by some people who like the subgenre -- all you have to do is
|
||
visit any of the echomail ST conferences to see that many, many people
|
||
regard the novels (*and* the comic books) as canon. The same thing is
|
||
happening to STAR WARS -- a publishing industry has appeared, and the
|
||
Timothy Zahn books are being treated as canon, to the point that many
|
||
readers think the Zahn trilogy will be the basis for the next movie
|
||
trilogy, despite Lucas' repeated denials. Some people just carry a
|
||
good thing too far.
|
||
|
||
Poetry -- My favorite poems this issue are "Personal Notes in Black
|
||
Mirrors," by Michie Sidwell, for its layers within layers, and
|
||
"Mi'Lord," by Patricia Meeks, for its unabashed romanticism.
|
||
|
||
Fiction:
|
||
|
||
"Airborne," Robert McKay -- Fascinating idea of an alternate society,
|
||
but the story seems little more than a technical study in aircraft
|
||
repair and crisis management. I would have liked more about the
|
||
society itself, especially its economic structure. How did the
|
||
residential flyers pay for refueling and other dirt-based resources?
|
||
(And what happened to the "5 or 6 hours of fuel" the ship had left?
|
||
Could another tanker really have been topped off and rendezvoused
|
||
with them in time?)
|
||
|
||
"The Squirrels," L. Shawn Aiken -- An amusing little vignette. "Do
|
||
Not Mock The Suicide Attack Squirrels," indeed!
|
||
|
||
"The Caravan," A.M. Eckard -- I'm speechless. I never thought elecmag
|
||
fiction could get as good as this. Eckard has a talent for rendering
|
||
an "otherwhere" feeling that's almost equal to Ursula K. LeGuin, Jack
|
||
Dann, or Gene Wolfe. The simplicity of the prose (the sameness of
|
||
sentence structure is annoying, despite the effect Eckard is trying
|
||
for; another trip through the word processor would have helped) belies
|
||
the richness of idea and understanding of atmosphere that speaks to
|
||
Eckard's future publishing success. Next to Gage Steele (whose prose
|
||
is sorely missed this issue), A.M. Eckard is SUNLIGHT THROUGH THE
|
||
SHADOWS' most talented find.
|
||
|
||
Keep up the success, Joe!
|
||
|
||
|
||
Yer bit-buddy,
|
||
|
||
Bruce Diamond
|
||
|
||
Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS News
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Since this is a new column, let me tell you a little bit about Sunlight
|
||
Through The Shadows BBS. First and foremost, it's a support BBS for the
|
||
magazine. It's also far more than that, as nearly 300 faithful users can
|
||
attest.
|
||
|
||
STTS BBS is ran on TriBBS v5.1 software (registered, of course), a 33Mhz
|
||
80386 DX computer, two IDE hard drives (120 meg and 170 meg), a Zoom
|
||
14.4k Fax/Modem, and a VGA monitor. Soon, it'll be hooked up via a LAN
|
||
to a 50Mhz 80486 DX with half a gig of storage space.
|
||
|
||
It's run on one phone line, and the number is (214) 620-8793. At some
|
||
point in the near future, we hope to add another node as well as a 28.8k
|
||
Fax/Modem.
|
||
|
||
One last thing - it's entirely free. Donations are accepted (so far,
|
||
I've only received one) but you can't buy higher access. Access is
|
||
completely, 100% FREE.
|
||
|
||
STTS BBS carries 30+ doors (games and information), a good deal of them
|
||
registered. We also carry four networks (RIME, Pen & Brush Net, World
|
||
Message Exchange, and PlanoNet) as well as a large file area. The file
|
||
area specializes in electronic magazines (carrying the entire back issue
|
||
run of several!), texts on all subjects, and shareware text adventure
|
||
games. Of course, there's also a wide variety of other programs to be
|
||
had, including BBS doors, telecommunication packages, arcade/adventure
|
||
games, offline mail readers, and more! Additionally, STTS BBS is a
|
||
support BBS for TriBBS software and carries just about all the programs
|
||
available out there for TriBBS. STTS BBS is also a regional HUB for Pen
|
||
& Brush Net (P&BNet) as well as a HUB for World Message Exchange (WME).
|
||
Lastly, we're a member of the American BBS Association.
|
||
|
||
About 70% of the callers are from Texas, as it's a Dallas-based BBS. The
|
||
other 30%, however, are from just about everywhere else. Oklahoma,
|
||
California, Virginia, Oregon, Kansas, Illinois - you name it. We've had
|
||
several people from Canada and the UK call as well. Most of the long
|
||
distance callers are SysOps calling to download STTS Magazine every
|
||
month (those that don't get it through the net) but there's several
|
||
"just plain users" who call to participate in the message base or
|
||
download files.
|
||
|
||
Now that I've told you a little about STTS BBS, let me tell you exactly
|
||
what this column intends to cover:
|
||
|
||
Each month, we'll discuss additions and upgrades to the BBS as well as
|
||
new door games added, nets or conferences added, and just general news
|
||
about the BBS. We'll divide it into two sections - BBS News and Net
|
||
News. With that said, away we go . . .
|
||
|
||
|
||
BBS News:
|
||
|
||
I've added several new registered door games to the system, including
|
||
Seth Able's great LEGEND OF THE RED DRAGON and PLANETS: THE EXPLORATION
|
||
OF SPACE games. Just yesterday, I added T&J Software's classic LEMONADE
|
||
game. T&J Software's ONLINE LEGAL ADVISOR will join the list soon.
|
||
|
||
LEGEND OF THE RED DRAGON (LORD) is by and large the most popular door on
|
||
the BBS right now, beating out the next closest (PLANETS) by nearly a
|
||
two-to-one margin. SCRABBLE, created by Christopher Hall, takes the
|
||
third place spot. READROOM (Michael Gibbs' wonderful elec. magazine
|
||
reader, without which this magazine would be in a totally different
|
||
form) grabs the fourth place slot, and to round out the top five, Jim
|
||
Samples' great word game WORD CHALLENGE. CHAT WITH SANTA, a freeware
|
||
door by Rich Waugh, (the maker of SHAMPAGE) was also a much-frequented
|
||
door during the holiday season.
|
||
|
||
The most popular download for December was SUN9312.ZIP, the December
|
||
issue of this magazine. Number two was BGI12.ZIP, a full-color tutorial
|
||
on the Internet for novices and experts alike. Number three was MCI.ZIP,
|
||
a text file explaining MCI's new PC Connect plan. The fourth most
|
||
popular file was TBRSH102.ZIP, a companion program for THEDRAW. The
|
||
fifth most popular file was CTM9312.ZIP, ComputerTalk Magazine.
|
||
|
||
The top five local message writers were 1) Joe DeRouen, 2) Lisa Tamara,
|
||
3) Daniel Nations, 4) Margaret Grace, and 5) Robert McKay.
|
||
|
||
Not counting myself, Tim Bellomy contributed the most uploads, followed
|
||
by Alissa Harvey, Don Bird, Sara Levinson, and Danny Grider.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Net News:
|
||
|
||
We've now got STTS Magazine conferences on both Pen & Brush Net
|
||
and RIME. Check 'em out! (SysOps: Please consider picking up these
|
||
conferences. On RIME, the channel number is 448. On P&BNet, IF you're
|
||
using Postlink, it's 1108. If you're *not* using Postlink, ask your HUB
|
||
SysOp)
|
||
|
||
We've also added several new conferences from WME (thanks to finding a
|
||
local HUB, Tim Bellomy's Bucket Bored BBS) as well as a few from RIME.
|
||
As always, STTS BBS carries the full line up of Pen & Brush Net
|
||
conferences.
|
||
|
||
The top five netmail message writers were 1) Lucia Chambers, 2) Joe
|
||
DeRouen, 3) Robert McKay, 4) Brian Whatcott, and 5) Michael Gibbs.
|
||
|
||
The top five requested files via any of the nets on STTS was
|
||
1) SUN9312.ZIP, 2) P&BPOST.ZIP (info packet on P&BNet), 3) RDRM30.ZIP
|
||
(ReadRoom v3.0 reading door), 4) ADAMSFAQ.ZIP (text file on everything
|
||
you ever wanted to know about SF writer Doug Adams), and 5) LITES29.ZIP
|
||
(issue 29 of Bruce Diamond's movie review elec. magazine LIGHTS OUT).
|
||
|
||
All in all, December was a great month for the BBS. If there's anything
|
||
that wasn't covered in this column that you'd like to see covered next
|
||
month, drop me a line.
|
||
|
||
The Question and Answers Session
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
Each month, we'll ask a (hopefully) interesting question to users on
|
||
various nets and BBS's across the world and include the best answers
|
||
we get in this column.
|
||
|
||
The question we asked for this month was: "What will you remember most
|
||
about 1993? Why?"
|
||
|
||
A lot of things happened this year, on world, national, local, and
|
||
personal levels. Here's a few thoughts from STTS readers on what 1993
|
||
meant to them.
|
||
|
||
The original message and responses are reproduced here in their
|
||
entirety, (Minus some quoting of the original question) with the
|
||
permission of the people involved.
|
||
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
<PUBLIC><HAS REPLIES>
|
||
Number : 21 of 30 Date : 12/05/93 02:23
|
||
Confer : STTS On-Line Magazine
|
||
From : Joe Derouen
|
||
To : All
|
||
Subject : January!
|
||
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
|
||
People,
|
||
|
||
For the Jan. issue of Sunlight Through The Shadow's monthly Question
|
||
and Answers column, I'd like to pose this question:
|
||
|
||
"What will you remember most about 1993? Why?"
|
||
|
||
|
||
As always, replies to this question will be printed, in their entirety,
|
||
in the December issue of STTS Magazine. Anyone replying to this message
|
||
gives permission for us to use the reply in the magazine.
|
||
|
||
Many thanks,
|
||
|
||
Joe
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
<PUBLIC><ECHO><RECEIVED>
|
||
Number : 13521 of 13549 Date : 12/06/93 08:25
|
||
Reply To: 13320
|
||
Confer : Writers <P&BNet>
|
||
From : Robert Mckay
|
||
To : Joe Derouen
|
||
Subject : January!
|
||
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
JD>"What will you remember most about 1993? Why?"
|
||
|
||
My fourteenth anniversary. At least one reason why should be obvious,
|
||
but another is the fact that my first pastor performed a church wedding
|
||
for us on Sunday that was the date. We'd never had a church wedding -
|
||
only a lot of paperwork formalities at the US Embassy in Seoul, Korea.
|
||
|
||
In second place - I know you didn't ask, but <g> - is my discovery a)
|
||
that Rush Limbaugh exists, b) who he is, and c) that he says what I've
|
||
long believed. <gd&r *extremely* fast>
|
||
---
|
||
þ QMPro 1.01 11-1111 þ She ÄÄKISS
|
||
* Pen and Brush (703) 644-6730
|
||
* PostLink(tm) v1.11 PANDB (#1742) : P&BNet(tm)
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
<PUBLIC><ECHO><RECEIVED>
|
||
Number : 29807 of 29872 Date : 12/05/93 18:00
|
||
Reply To: 29300
|
||
Confer : Writers <RIME>
|
||
From : Aline Thompson
|
||
To : Joe Derouen
|
||
Subject : January!
|
||
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
JD>"What will you remember most about 1993? Why?"
|
||
|
||
JD>As always, replies to this question will be printed, in their entirety,
|
||
JD>in the December issue of STTS Magazine. Anyone replying to this message
|
||
JD>gives permission for us to use the reply in the magazine.
|
||
|
||
I remember Southern California flooding in the early part of the year.
|
||
After five years of drought it was debatable whether to laugh or cry at
|
||
the overabundance of water.
|
||
I remember Southern California on fire two consecutive weeks.
|
||
Television covering the fires on all the local stations except channel
|
||
13 which showed a Clippers Basketball game.
|
||
|
||
Actually in a few years I will have difficulty remembering what year it
|
||
was that floods were followed by fire.
|
||
|
||
Let's see when was the Landers' earthquake? 90? 91?
|
||
|
||
---
|
||
þ SLMR 2.1a þ Win without boasting; lose without excuses
|
||
* The MOG-UR'S EMS þ Granada Hills, CA þ 818-366-1238/8929 þ 21.6K D/S
|
||
* PostLink(tm) v1.11 MOGUR (#323) : RelayNet(tm)
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
<PUBLIC><ECHO><RECEIVED>
|
||
Number : 30017 of 30067 Date : 12/08/93 16:43
|
||
Confer : Writers <RIME>
|
||
From : Dale Lehman
|
||
To : Joe Derouen
|
||
Subject : January!
|
||
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
JD>"What will you remember most about 1993? Why?"
|
||
|
||
Huh?? That was only ONE year???
|
||
|
||
JD>As always, replies to this question will be printed, in their entirety,
|
||
>in the December issue of STTS Magazine. Anyone replying to this message
|
||
>gives permission for us to use the reply in the magazine.
|
||
|
||
Sure, if you think it's worth it.
|
||
|
||
-- Dale
|
||
---
|
||
þ SLMR 2.1a þ All wiyht. Rho sritched mg kegtops awound?
|
||
þ [R2.00q] MetroLink: Scintillation BBS þ Lombard, IL þ (708)953-4922
|
||
* The DC Information Exchange (703)836-0748
|
||
* PostLink(tm) v1.11 DCINFO (#16) : MetroLink(tm)
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
<PUBLIC><ECHO><RECEIVED>
|
||
Number : 30019 of 30067 Date : 12/08/93 16:43
|
||
Confer : Writers <RIME>
|
||
From : Dave Bates
|
||
To : Joe Derouen
|
||
Subject : January!
|
||
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
|
||
From a personal perspective, I will remember 1993 as being the year that
|
||
I first seriously began writing. After a series of false starts and
|
||
much self analysis, complete with uncountable doubts, I closed my eyes
|
||
and had at it. After several attempts, I found that I still have a lot
|
||
to learn.
|
||
|
||
From a broader perspective, 1993 will be the beginning of grandiose
|
||
political and economic change in America. The election of Clinton as
|
||
President is only the tip of the iceberg. The chain of events that has
|
||
begun could not have been altered by any one individual. 1993 will be,
|
||
IMO, the year that the United States of America began its long and
|
||
steady decline from world economic domination.
|
||
|
||
|
||
---
|
||
þ TLX v2.30 þ Next to the Army, McDonald's trains the most Americans.
|
||
þ Cam-Mail þ P&BNet(tm) þ Bill & Hilary's BBS þElkhart INþ219-295-6206
|
||
* Pen and Brush (703) 644-6730
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
<PUBLIC><ECHO><RECEIVED>
|
||
Number : 6745 of 6759 Date : 12/09/93 08:58
|
||
Confer : Net Chat <WME>
|
||
From : Joe Klemmer
|
||
To : Joe Derouen
|
||
Subject : January!
|
||
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
|
||
JD> "What will you remember most about 1993? Why?"
|
||
|
||
Getting Carpal Tunnel Syndrome from all the messaging I've done.
|
||
|
||
I will be needing surgery for it. :-(
|
||
|
||
* SLMR 2.1a * Internet: klemmerj@hoffman-emh1.army.mil
|
||
---
|
||
þ TriNet: [WME] My UnKnown BBS * Springfield,VA * (703)690-0669 {1:109/370}
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
<PUBLIC><RECEIVED>
|
||
Number : 23 of 23 Date : 12/13/93 16:34
|
||
Reply To: 21
|
||
Confer : STTS On-Line Magazine
|
||
From : Tricia Meeks
|
||
To : Joe Derouen
|
||
Subject : January!
|
||
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
JD> "What will you remember most about 1993? Why?"
|
||
|
||
Even though my mom passed away this past September..I choose to not
|
||
remember her death but her life as she lived it. She was one of the
|
||
most courageous and willfull persons I have ever known. As she fought
|
||
emphysemia for the past 8 years, she never gave into her pain, but
|
||
always gave everything she had to others and her family, even to her
|
||
last breath as she told us she loved us. Her will carried her through.
|
||
She only gave into her illness, in her final week when she decided to
|
||
go to the hospital. Hahahaha...SHE decided that was when she was going
|
||
to go....:) That was my mom. She would never admit that she was
|
||
feeling bad and worried about us to the point of over exerting herself.
|
||
When I look at myself, I hope that when the time comes that I leave
|
||
this world with as much grace and strength as she did. Mom little did
|
||
you know that you taught me so much about the beauty one can bear. I
|
||
love you.
|
||
|
||
...Tricia...
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
<PUBLIC><ECHO>
|
||
Number : 14245 of 14270 Date: 12/06/93 14:12
|
||
Confer : NetChat <WME>
|
||
From : Glenda Blackwell
|
||
To : Joe Derouen
|
||
Subject : January!
|
||
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
Hi Joe:
|
||
|
||
|
||
JD>"What will you remember most about 1993? Why?"
|
||
|
||
That's an easy one! The Great Blizzard of 93! March 13, 1993.
|
||
Tennessee as well as many other state recorded the largest amount of
|
||
snowfall in 24 hours in History. I think the actual recorded amount was
|
||
somewhere around 24-30 inches depending on the area! I had 36 on my
|
||
back deck and drifts of up to seven feet in the driveway! Many homes
|
||
were without power for days and most phone lines were down! I was very
|
||
lucky though not to loose electricity or phone during the course of the
|
||
storm! It was definately an experience, although I don't have any
|
||
horror stories to tell, I simply stayed in the house for 4 days and
|
||
<S>top, <N>onstop, <ENTER> for more?
|
||
|
||
listened to the radio and tv of all the dilemas that others were facing!
|
||
Yes I survied the Great Blizzard of "93"
|
||
|
||
Glenda Blackwell
|
||
Jacksboro, Tennessee
|
||
|
||
|
||
* OLX 2.1 TD * Since life goes on, I might as well get on with it!
|
||
---
|
||
þ TriNet: Rising Star * Jacksboro,Tenn * 615-566-9778
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
<PUBLIC><ECHO>
|
||
Number : 14259 of 14270 Date: 12/08/93 08:55
|
||
Confer : NetChat <WME>
|
||
From : Sean Mcclanahan
|
||
To : Joe Derouen
|
||
Subject : Memorable Events Of '93
|
||
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
GB> JD>"What will you remember most about 1993? Why?"
|
||
|
||
The great Dupe Storm of 1993...
|
||
|
||
The MailHub saw thousands of messages pass through in a matter of days
|
||
- and most of them old material... ;-)
|
||
|
||
Sean
|
||
|
||
---
|
||
þ KWQ/2 1.2d NR þ Use your own tagline - this one is MINE!
|
||
þ TriNet: WME:Janus Mail Hub
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
<PUBLIC><ECHO>
|
||
Number : 14262 of 14270 Date: 12/07/93 07:22
|
||
Confer : NetChat <WME>
|
||
From : Ted Michel
|
||
To : Joe Derouen
|
||
Subject : January!
|
||
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
JD> "What will you remember most about 1993? Why?"
|
||
|
||
Hi Joe,
|
||
I will remeber 1993 because that is when I got into computers and
|
||
started a BBS. Right now in my life I don't think I would be the same
|
||
person if it wasn't for the freinds I have found though computers.
|
||
Specially the people who have Helped my set up my board they are a
|
||
great group of people. TWTL
|
||
TED
|
||
---
|
||
þ TriNet: WME: * Barter Town * Pinellas Park, FL * (813)545-1492
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
<PUBLIC><RECEIVED>
|
||
Number : 28 of 28 Date : 12-19-93 16:49
|
||
Reply To: 21
|
||
Confer : STTS On-Line Magazine
|
||
From : Tommy Van Hook
|
||
To : Joe Derouen
|
||
Subject : January!
|
||
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
JD>"What will you remember most about 1993? Why?"
|
||
|
||
I think I will remember my visit back here to Dallas. It's a
|
||
special time for me to re-connect with the friends that I
|
||
consider my "family". They are the special parts of my life,
|
||
which never change -- despite the changes that occur in their
|
||
lives and my own.
|
||
---
|
||
þ MegaMail 2.10 #0:If you ain't got a Tag-line, fake it!
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
<PUBLIC><ECHO><RECEIVED>
|
||
Number : 500 of 503 Date : 12/18/93 08:59
|
||
Reply To: 462
|
||
Confer : Poetry & Prose <WME>
|
||
From : Lisa Tamara
|
||
To : Joe Derouen
|
||
Subject : January!
|
||
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
JD> For the Jan. issue of Sunlight Through The Shadow's monthly Question
|
||
JD> and Answers column, I'd like to pose this question:
|
||
JD>
|
||
JD> "What will you remember most about 1993? Why?"
|
||
|
||
For me, and many of the people I care about it was a year of dramatic
|
||
change.....changes brought about not by anger or force, but by the
|
||
acceptance of what is.
|
||
|
||
Had friends who broke off relationships that hadnt been working for
|
||
quite some time.....had both friends and relatives finally accept that
|
||
they were gay and start learning to be happy about it......more than
|
||
one or two friends had 'blowouts' with family members that in some
|
||
cases halted destructive relationships, and in others put them on the
|
||
road to healing... Two good friends of mine (two couples) witnessed the
|
||
birth of their first born this year....and several of us have mourned
|
||
the loss of family members.
|
||
|
||
All in all......I'd say it was a good year....one filled with joy &
|
||
honesty even while fraught with the pain of transition.
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
<PUBLIC><RECEIVED>
|
||
Number : 30 of 30 Date : 12/29/93 23:12
|
||
Reply To: 21
|
||
Confer : STTS On-Line Magazine
|
||
From : Heather Derouen
|
||
To : Joe Derouen
|
||
Subject : January!
|
||
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
JD> "What will you remember most about 1993? Why?"
|
||
|
||
What I'll remember most about 1993 is that it seems that I spent the
|
||
entire year at doctors' offices. Why? Because I spent almost the
|
||
entire year at doctors' offices.
|
||
|
||
Oh, yes, and having the chance to spend another year with my always
|
||
wonderful and ever-more-darling husband.
|
||
|
||
Heather DeRouen
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
<PUBLIC><ECHO><RECEIVED>
|
||
Number : 462 of 462 Date : 12/28/93 10:27
|
||
Confer : News <P&BNet>
|
||
From : Sylvia Ramsey
|
||
To : Joe Derouen
|
||
Subject : January!
|
||
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
JD>People,
|
||
|
||
JD>For the Jan. issue of Sunlight Through The Shadow's monthly Question
|
||
>and Answers column, I'd like to pose this question:
|
||
|
||
JD>"What will you remember most about 1993? Why?"
|
||
|
||
The year of 1993 will remain etched in my mind because my son was sent
|
||
to Somalia in September. Again, I watched the news reports as I sat on
|
||
the edge of my chair feeling the fear a mother feels when her child is
|
||
in danger. I remember talking to him on the phone with sounds of
|
||
gunfire and tracers heard in the background. Again, I tied a yellow
|
||
ribbon in front of my house and still it waits for his return.
|
||
|
||
I will remember 1993 because of the violence that surrounds us all.
|
||
Not just the violence of war in far off countries; but, the violence in
|
||
our everyday world. A world where children take guns to school and kill
|
||
classmates. A world where strangers kill strangers and children are
|
||
stalked and killed by unknown assailants.
|
||
|
||
I will remember 1993 because of the hope I can still retain because I
|
||
saw people unselfishly helping their fellow men in times of disaster.
|
||
It let me see that, for all the negative things in this world of ours,
|
||
there is still a little heart and soul left and as long as it exists we
|
||
still have a chance.
|
||
---
|
||
* QMPro 1.50 42-7046 * There is no joy in life like the joy of sharing.
|
||
þ TNet 3.90 ÷ P&BNet - The Imperial Palace 706-592-1344
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
|
||
|
||
As always, I'll now attempt to answer my own question..
|
||
|
||
What will I remember most about 1993? In all honesty, probably this
|
||
magazine and my BBS. After ten years of wanting to start a BBS, I
|
||
finally just decided to do it. I've only wanted to publish an
|
||
electronic magazine for a little over three years, but I managed to
|
||
reach that goal as well. I really enjoyed the BBSing part of my life
|
||
in 1993.
|
||
|
||
Waco, Texas springs to mind as well, on the list of things I'll remember.
|
||
So many lives lost, for no real reason. Truly, it was a sad time in
|
||
american history.
|
||
|
||
Good things, bad things. Happy times, sad times. As I said elsewhere in
|
||
this issue, 1993 was a year of change.
|
||
|
||
Thank you to all of you readers out there for reading (and hopefully
|
||
enjoying!) STTS magazine. Have a great 1994!
|
||
|
||
ANSWER ME!
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Liz Shelton
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
ANSWER ME!
|
||
|
||
|
||
Did you ever have a question about your computer or some software, and
|
||
you just didn't know where to go to find the answer? Well, in this
|
||
column I'll be attempting to clear up any questions (big or small) that
|
||
any of you may have. I'm not claiming to be an expert by any means, but
|
||
I am resourceful and I'll do whatever necessary to find an appropriate
|
||
answer for any questions relating to computers, software, or general
|
||
BBSing.
|
||
|
||
You may direct any questions to me at Sunlight Through the Shadow's BBS,
|
||
Pen & Brush Net, RIME, WME, or via Internet (liz.shelton@chrysalis.org).
|
||
Send me some work to do so I won't have to bug Joe for another column!
|
||
And best wishes for a hap hap happy New Year!
|
||
|
||
My View
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, L. Shawn Aiken
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
[Each month, a reader/writer is offered the opportunity to give his or
|
||
her viewpoint on a particular topic dear to them. If you'd like the
|
||
chance to air *your* views in this forum, please contact Joe DeRouen
|
||
via one of the many ways listed in CONTACT POINTS elsewhere in this
|
||
issue]
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
The National Health Care Plan - Blessing or Curse?
|
||
|
||
by
|
||
|
||
L. Shawn Aiken
|
||
|
||
There have been many times in the last 217 years when the
|
||
federal government has stepped in when they felt that state governments
|
||
could not handle the situation. Noble causes have been fought. Slavery
|
||
was abolished and the right to vote has been granted to virtually every
|
||
citizen of age. Other problems have been addressed, such as aging and
|
||
illness, with programs such as Social Security and Medicare. But the
|
||
benefits of these programs are at some points obscure while the
|
||
problems, such as the outrageous costs, are extremely evident. The
|
||
entire issue of national health has been toyed with and fiddled at for
|
||
some time. Now President Clinton, in one sweeping move, plans to fix
|
||
everything. But what exactly is the National Healthcare Plan? What
|
||
will it do? And after it has done it, what will we have? But the first
|
||
question that should be asked is why.
|
||
In "Health Security, The President's Report to the American People",
|
||
President Clinton stated " . . . more than two million Americans lose
|
||
their health coverage every month. Many get it back within a few weeks or
|
||
a few months, but every day a growing number of Americans are counted
|
||
among the more than 37 million who go without health insurance - including
|
||
9.5 million children . . . At the root of the problem lies our health
|
||
insurance system, which gives insurance companies the right to pick and
|
||
choose whom to cover. Risk selection and underwriting - the practice of
|
||
identifying the healthiest people, who pose the least risk - divide
|
||
consumers into rigid categories used to deny coverage to sick or old
|
||
people, or set high premium rates." Thus, if a person gets ill, can't pay
|
||
for it himself, and doesn't have insurance, the government eventually gets
|
||
the bill. This is why President Clinton says we need healthcare reform.
|
||
President Clinton blames the insurance system, and thus the
|
||
insurance companies involved. But what is insurance? Here is a
|
||
definition of insurance from Webster's Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary :
|
||
"coverage by contract whereby one party undertakes to indemnity or
|
||
guarantee another against loss by a specified contingency or peril." The
|
||
first know insurance policies appeared in 3000 BC in Babylon. People
|
||
would insure sea merchant against loss of their ships. The better
|
||
maintained a merchant's ship was, the less he had to pay because it was
|
||
less likely to sink. Merchants with poor ships had to pay more. Thus it
|
||
has been for the last 5000 years. Insurance companies gamble on the
|
||
likelihood that you and your insured items are going to be okay. They
|
||
make sure that they know the odds because, after all, they are in it for
|
||
the money. It seems that the President believes that health insurance
|
||
companies should have insure everybody, regardless of health history.
|
||
This runs contrary to the whole business of insurance.
|
||
The purpose of the proposed Health Security Act is "To ensure
|
||
individual and family security through health care coverage for all
|
||
Americans in a manner that contains the rate of growth in health care
|
||
costs and promotes responsible health insurance practices, to promote
|
||
choice in health care, and to ensure and protect the health care of all
|
||
Americans." A majority of the act outlines how citizens will be
|
||
guaranteed health care coverage. All of this fine tuning is for naught,
|
||
for as Clinton said, ". . . if an insurance company tries to drop you for
|
||
any reason, you will still be covered, because that will be illegal." If
|
||
this is enforced, insurance companies will fail unless propped up with
|
||
government subsidies. Then the health insurance companies will be little
|
||
more than government agencies.
|
||
The other part of the Health Security Act is "to contain the rate of
|
||
growth in health care costs." Why is health care so high? It is said
|
||
that this is because demand is so great. But that violates what every
|
||
student in high school economics is taught! As demand increases, supply
|
||
increases, and as supply increases, prices drop because of competition.
|
||
Any movement otherwise is indicative of a monopoly. But where is the
|
||
monopoly? Hospitals, drug manufacturers, and other health related
|
||
industries are not owned by one big corporation. The only relation they
|
||
really have is the American Medical Association. But the AMA doesn't have
|
||
a monopoly on health care, or does it? The AMA IS the monopoly. If
|
||
President Clinton were to trust bust the AMA, perhaps the rate of growth
|
||
in health care costs could be contained. But nowhere in the Health
|
||
Security Act is there such a proposal. It is unlikely that it even could
|
||
be trust busted, because it operates under entirely different guidelines.
|
||
The only thing really salvageable thing from President Clinton's
|
||
Healthcare Plan is buried deep within the legislation. It involves
|
||
preventative medicine and health education. This is the only real way the
|
||
health care crisis can be handled. Most of the more expensive medical,
|
||
such as cancer, can be handled relatively more inexpensively when detected
|
||
early. If preventative medicine and health education were increased,
|
||
health care would go down. This is not to say your standard free clinics
|
||
and a single health care course in high school, but something much
|
||
broader. A special class in high school on preventative medicine, with
|
||
perhaps refresher courses later in life. Frequent, and perhaps somewhat
|
||
mandatory checkups at free clinics or from a person's own doctor. And
|
||
there are many other things that can be done if people are encouraged to
|
||
do, such as improving diet, and so on.
|
||
The nation is on a quest to alleviate the crippling costs of
|
||
healthcare, led by President Clinton. He, along with his wife, have
|
||
rushed to create an answer for all the nation's healthcare needs. But in
|
||
doing so he has overlooked some facts. Health insurance companies are no
|
||
place to look to in solving our health care problems. They are gamblers
|
||
looking for profit. Of course they provide a service to us, but enforcing
|
||
them to do so is not feasible and will force them out of business and
|
||
cripple the economy as the government has to take up the slack. It is up
|
||
to us, with the government helping, to educate our citizens to maintain
|
||
healthy lifestyles and engage in preventative medicine. The less people
|
||
that are sick, the smaller the nation's medical bill will be. Then the
|
||
insurance companies will be more obliged to carry everyone possible. And
|
||
perhaps being healthy will send a message to the medical monopoly that we
|
||
CAN live without them, so perhaps they should wise up and use medicine as
|
||
a tool, rather than a profit making device. We have the knowledge to be
|
||
healthy. We should use it.
|
||
|
||
Upcoming Issues & News
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
THIS ISSUE...
|
||
|
||
Happy New Year! Check out MY VIEW, a new monthly feature which will give
|
||
a reader/writer the chance to express his viewpoint.
|
||
|
||
You may have noticed a rather different look for this issue of STTS
|
||
Magazine - compartmentalized sections. Thanks to Michael Gibbs and
|
||
Readroom/Reader 3.0 (released a few months ago) STTS now has a more
|
||
streamlined look and it's easier to find just what it is you're looking
|
||
for.
|
||
|
||
Please welcome Liz Shelton to the writing staff of STTS Magazine. She'll
|
||
be contributing various CD reviews as well as a monthly question and
|
||
answer column, ANSWER ME.
|
||
|
||
|
||
NEXT ISSUE...
|
||
|
||
The February issue will focus on Valentine's Day, love, and the general
|
||
gaiety that seems to ensue around this time of year. There'll be
|
||
fiction, articles, and poetry (to be sure!) devoted to the holiday.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
FUTURE ISSUES...
|
||
|
||
Look for more monthly columns as well as guest editorials and more
|
||
ANSI art.
|
||
|
||
I bit off more than I could chew for this issue. In the Dec. issue I
|
||
announced that this issue would *definitely* begin the long-promised
|
||
round-robin story. I lied. <Grin> It'll start in March. Promise. <not
|
||
even crossing fingers this time>
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
|
||
³ 110 Nodes * 4000 Conferences * 30.0 Gigabytes * 100,000+ Archives ³
|
||
ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ
|
||
ÛÛßßßßßß ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛßßßßÛÛ ÛÛßßÛ ÛÛ ÛÛßßÛ ÛÛ ÛÛßßßßßß ÛÛ ßÛÛ (R)
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ÛÛ ÛÛÜÜÜÜÛÛ ÛÛÜÜÜÜÛÛ ÛÛ Û ÛÛ ÛÛ Û ÛÛ ÛÛÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÛÛ ÛÛ
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ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ Û ÛÛ ÛÛ Û ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ Ü ÛÛ
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ßßßßßßßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßßßß ßß ßßßß ßßßßßßßß ßßßßßßß ßßßß
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°°°°°°°° * Winner, First Dvorak/Zoom "Best General BBS" Award °°°°°°°°
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||
* ILink, RIME, Smartnet * Best Files in the USA
|
||
* Pen & Brush, BASnet. * 120 Online Games
|
||
* QWKmail & Offline Readers * Multi-line Chat
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||
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||
Closing Stocks, Financial News, Business/Professional Software,
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NewsBytes, PC-Catalog, MovieCritic, EZines, AbleData, ASP, 4DOS
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Huge Windows, Graphics, Music, Programming, Education Libraries
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ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
|
||
³ Channel 1 Communications(R) * Cambridge, MA * 617-354-3230 14.4 ³
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ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ
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||
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||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
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||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
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°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
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||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
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°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
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°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² Feature Articles ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
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°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
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°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
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ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
|
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|
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|
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|
||
A Plausible Model for Space Combat in Science Fiction Writing
|
||
Copyright (c) 1993, Robert McKay
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
*A Plausible Model for Space Combat in Science Fiction Writing*
|
||
an essay
|
||
by Robert McKay
|
||
Copyright (C) 1993 by Robert McKay
|
||
|
||
|
||
By now, the *Star Wars* model of space combat is well-known even to those
|
||
few who have never seen any of the movies in that series. The image of
|
||
fighters - either single or multi-seat types - zooming through the vacuum,
|
||
dodging and performing acrobatics as atmospheric fighters do, is indelibly
|
||
impressed on the collective consciousness of America. This is true even of
|
||
those people who do not like science fiction.
|
||
But this model is fatally flawed. The ships of *Star Wars* and other
|
||
such productions are behaving as though they were in atmosphere, and such is
|
||
not the case. Space is a vacuum - there is no atmosphere. Thus, acrobatics
|
||
are not possible. There can be no banks, no wide sweeping turns, no loops,
|
||
and no dog fights. These things are part of aerial combat because they are
|
||
necessary and inherent maneuvers when flying aircraft. They would not be -
|
||
could not be - part of space combat.
|
||
It seems that from the movie-goer or TV viewer up to the production
|
||
staff, no one is aware of the characteristics of vacuum. The best layman's
|
||
definition of vacuum is an absence of air. There is no atmosphere in vacuum;
|
||
captured by the gravitational forces of planets, atmosphere - whether the
|
||
breathable mixture of Terra or the poisonous soups of Venus or Jupiter -re-
|
||
mains trapped around them. It does not extend from planet to planet, much
|
||
less into interstellar space.
|
||
This being the case, ailerons, flaps, wings, and other assorted control
|
||
surfaces are useless. An aircraft rudder is designed to operate in atmo-
|
||
sphere; it swings to the left, and the pressure of the air through which the
|
||
plane is moving swings the nose to the left. In space, without atmosphere, a
|
||
rudder is as useless as a tail on a tree. It cannot serve any useful pur-
|
||
pose. No matter how much it may be swung to the left, there is no atmosphere
|
||
to press against it and yaw the craft to port.
|
||
If these control surfaces do not function in space, then the maneuvers
|
||
produced by these surfaces are likewise non-existent in space. Remaining
|
||
with the illustrative rudder, we see that if it does not function in space,
|
||
there can be no yaw in the manner of an aircraft. Unlike a B-52 coming in
|
||
for a landing, a spacecraft cannot use the rudder to go crabwise. It's ac-
|
||
celeration is forward, and any acceleration applied from the side while for-
|
||
ward acceleration is in progress will, depending on whether the sideways ac-
|
||
celeration is at the nose, the tail, or amidships, point it in a new direc-
|
||
tion which the craft will then follow or shove it sideways bodily as it con-
|
||
tinues its forward flight.
|
||
The currently popular space combat model is aerial combat. We see space
|
||
fighters behaving as do F-15s, F-18s, or A-10s. As I have discussed, this
|
||
model simply is not valid. We need, therefore, to leave the air force in the
|
||
air, and find another model for space combat.
|
||
The naval model is the best. In our day, of course, the heroes are those
|
||
who climb into a cockpit and do single combat with other men in cockpits.
|
||
The high-tech radars, weapons systems, avionics, and other tools do not
|
||
change the fact that in aerial combat, it is still basically man against man,
|
||
one on one. This is a romantic notion, but we must discard romance and deal
|
||
with reality in this matter.
|
||
Without means of maneuvering fighters in the *Stars Wars* manner in vacu-
|
||
um, we must find a more credible way of picturing the thing. We must discard
|
||
the romance of one-on-one fighter battles, and look to the ancient concept of
|
||
ships, with large crews and serious armament, tackling each other on a more
|
||
sedate, though not any less deadly, basis. And this model is not devoid of
|
||
romance; until the advent of the air age, the main battle line was the place
|
||
where heroes were found. The trenches of World War I may have been nasty,
|
||
muddy, filthy places, but at Jutland, German and British admirals could
|
||
charge each other in the wet and fog, hurling great destructive broadsides at
|
||
each other. The fact that no one really won the Battle of Jutland does not
|
||
in the least detract from the romantic patina of it. Even in World War II,
|
||
where whole battles of great strategic significance were fought without the
|
||
ships coming within 100 miles of each other, the Battle of San Bernardino
|
||
Strait saw battleships slugging it out, with the classic "crossing the T" ma-
|
||
neuver employed with devastating effect by the American fleet.
|
||
It is not unromantic to envision fleets or single ships doing battle in
|
||
space. It is merely less romantic to our modern frame of mind - and as I
|
||
have already iterated and reiterated, that frame of mind is simply unrealis-
|
||
tic. If we are to base our views of space combat on what is romantic, we
|
||
could do worse than the naval model.
|
||
It should not be imagined that if man finds himself in space combat all
|
||
will be - with the exception of the arena - precisely as naval battles have
|
||
been. The three-dimensional nature of the battlefield will approximate aeri-
|
||
al combat - though it will also be reminiscent of submarine warfare. The
|
||
speeds will be immensely greater - thousands of miles per second are standard
|
||
in space. Weapons systems, detection methods, and armor - if armor there is
|
||
- will be radically different than those used on current warships. Moreover,
|
||
regardless of the naval correspondence, it is most likely that any space mil-
|
||
itary will be derived from air forces; sailing ships can't leave the surface,
|
||
while aircraft can approach the edge of space (in fact, during the X-craft
|
||
tests in the 50s and 60s at Edwards Air Force Base in California, rocket pow-
|
||
ered aircraft actually left the atmosphere, entered the lower regions of
|
||
space, and glided back to a controlled landing; they were unfortunately, in
|
||
my view, overshadowed by the Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo programs).
|
||
What would a space battle be like? Obviously any description is specula-
|
||
tion; science fiction is what such writing is termed. However, some charac-
|
||
teristic are, I think, certain enough to be discussed.
|
||
First, as I have already indicated, the vessels involved will be large,
|
||
with large crews. The precise size(s) is not important. However, it seems
|
||
logical to assume that one-man craft will be incapable of carrying the re-
|
||
quired fuel, weapons, and "avionics" (there's a term that will need to
|
||
evolve). Whether the weapons are unguided or guided missiles or some sort of
|
||
energy weapons, they will themselves be large - probably larger, if missiles,
|
||
than current fighter aircraft. Though at the speeds that are reached in
|
||
space even a small object can do significant damage, we must assume that the
|
||
opposing craft has made provision for such things in the form of armor and/or
|
||
some type of yet-to-be-invented shielding, and thus we must assume as a cor-
|
||
ollary that ships will mount larger weapons. If for no other reason, weapons
|
||
of the physical sort will be large due to the requirements of fuel and war-
|
||
head; if they are guided, as seems to be a necessity, the target acquisition
|
||
and lock-on systems will increase the size of the weapon. Second, the struc-
|
||
ture of the vessel and crew will approximate the naval pattern. There
|
||
will be a captain, with a staff of officers. Whether there is a bridge, a
|
||
combat information center, or some control center that combines these two
|
||
areas, the captain will conn and fight his ship from this specialized loca-
|
||
tion, giving helm and firing orders much as today's naval captains do. En-
|
||
listed men will man helm and other stations around the ship; the Star Trek
|
||
practice of having all bridge stations manned by officers is unrealistic and
|
||
will not come to pass. While there will undoubtedly be differences, a modern
|
||
naval officer could be transported onto a space vessel and not find any seri-
|
||
ous differences in the basic principles of crewing, command, and function.
|
||
Third, actual combat will be much like naval engagements. Single ship
|
||
actions will doubtless see ships coming at each other from various angles -
|
||
ranging from an attack on the beam by an ambusher to a nose-to-nose approach
|
||
by vessels which have long since sighted each other, firing as their guns
|
||
bear, and loosing broadsides as occasion permits. There is no weather gauge
|
||
in space, and powered "flight" renders this unnecessary in any case, but use
|
||
will no doubt be made, when possible, of solar glare, planetary or other bo-
|
||
dies, and electronic countermeasures in the attempt to gain an advantage.
|
||
Fleet engagements will no doubt see aggregations of ships approaching, with
|
||
the lighter and more maneuverable vessels forming a screen around the heavier
|
||
but more powerful vessels - just as a screen is today thrown around the heavy
|
||
vessels of a naval task force.
|
||
Speculation at this point becomes sheer guesswork. Ships will be able to
|
||
maneuver, and the basic maneuvers possible in space combat can be ascer-
|
||
tained. But just what part this will play is hard to say. Without the abil-
|
||
ity to twist and turn like aircraft - or even like ocean-going vessels - in
|
||
tight and sudden arcs, maneuver may be less important in space combat than it
|
||
is today. On the other hand, there may be some system whereby relatively
|
||
quick maneuvers can be made, and weapons may arrive slowly enough on target
|
||
for these maneuvers to be a serious consideration. What weapons will be
|
||
available is completely unknown. For all the usage of lasers and phasers and
|
||
other speculative weapons, the fact is that we don't have anything today that
|
||
could do the trick and don't know what will finally be developed. In fact,
|
||
in discussing space combat we are engaging in the greatest speculation of
|
||
all, for there is absolutely no guarantee that man will ever reach the point
|
||
where such is possible.
|
||
Space combat in the *Star Wars* manner is simply not credible. Space
|
||
combat after a naval model is much more plausible. This much is certain.
|
||
But what the details will be - or even that they will be - is purely specula-
|
||
tive, and properly remains in the realm of science fiction.
|
||
|
||
Survey Results
|
||
Copyright (c) 1993, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
The results are in from the survey in the October, November, and
|
||
December issues, and tabulated below for a median score. Due to keeping
|
||
the survey in the magazine an extra two months, I actually ended up with
|
||
quite a few completed surveys.
|
||
|
||
I'd like to thank everyone who responded. Each and every one of your
|
||
comments were read and taken into consideration.
|
||
|
||
In the survey, I asked the readers to rate the sections of the magazine
|
||
on a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the best and one being the worst. Here's
|
||
the averages, taken by adding all the scores for an indiviual section
|
||
(eg: fiction) and dividing it by the number of survey's received that
|
||
scored that section with something other than an "X" for no comment.
|
||
|
||
Magazine sections are ranked in order of scores, from highest to lowest:
|
||
|
||
|
||
SCORES
|
||
ÄÄÄÄÄÄ
|
||
|
||
Fiction: 9.7
|
||
Poetry: 9.5
|
||
Book Reviews: 9.0
|
||
Editorial: 8.6
|
||
Feature Articles: 8.7
|
||
Movie Reviews: 8.5
|
||
ANSI Coverart: 7.4
|
||
CD Reviews: 7.7
|
||
Question & Answers: 7.9
|
||
|
||
|
||
Summary: Fiction and poetry seemed to prove the most popular, as I was
|
||
sure it would. Nothing really received *bad* scores, though,
|
||
which is promising. Of the reviews, the book reviews seemed
|
||
to be the most popular, followed very closely by the movies
|
||
and, lastly, the CDs.
|
||
|
||
What the above scores really *don't* tell is that the surveys
|
||
seemed to be divided into camps. There were several people that
|
||
read STTS mainly for fiction and poetry, and almost as many
|
||
people who read it exclusively for the reviews. Both groups
|
||
scored their interest group high while X'ing a "No Comment"
|
||
on the other sections.
|
||
|
||
Again, many thanks to those of you who took the time to fill out and
|
||
send in the survey.
|
||
|
||
Þ°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±Ý
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|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Lights Out
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Bruce Diamond
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
|
||
³ GERONIMO -- AN AMERICAN LEGEND: Walter Hill, director. ³
|
||
³ John Milius and Larry Gross, screenplay. John Milius, ³
|
||
³ story. Starring Jason Patric, Robert Duvall, Gene ³
|
||
³ Hackman, Wes Studi, Matt Damon, Rodney A. Grant, Kevin ³
|
||
³ Tighe, Steve Reevis, and Carlo Palomino. Columbia. ³
|
||
³ Rated R. ³
|
||
ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ
|
||
|
||
Brutality comes in many forms on the big screen. Knifings,
|
||
shootings, explosions, torture, gangland slayings -- these are
|
||
the more overt froms of brutality, a personal, intimate form of
|
||
cruelty. Then there's societal and institutional brutality, as
|
||
portrayed in JFK (1991), A CLOCKWORK ORANGE (1971), the upcoming
|
||
IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER, starring Daniel Day-Lewis, and all
|
||
through the works of Spike Lee. When these different forms of
|
||
brutality are combined by a non-apologist director like Walter
|
||
Hill, you get a fascinating study in power, survival and betrayal
|
||
like GERONIMO: AN AMERICAN LEGEND. Hill, director of such
|
||
machismo films as THE WARRIORS (1979) and 48 HRS. (1982), is a
|
||
man not given to romanticism, so we don't get the sentimental
|
||
picture of the Indian as noble savage that was so prevalent in
|
||
Kevin Costner's DANCES WITH WOLVES (1990).
|
||
|
||
Wes Studi's Geronimo (he starred in 1992's THE LAST OF THE
|
||
MOHICANS) is the portrait of a man trying to survive in the time
|
||
of the White-Eye. He is continually deferred to as a great
|
||
warrior and a great leader, but Hill steadfastly refuses to en-
|
||
large him to mythic proportions. "I'm just a man," Jason Patric
|
||
tells Studi far into the film, "just like you are." There are no
|
||
grandstanding speeches, no romanticized tribe-hanging-on-every-
|
||
word-from-the-great-chief's-mouth scenes, and no heroic poses
|
||
silhouetted against the sunset. This Geronimo is a raw image of
|
||
his times. He's a realist, surrendering to the U.S. Army to
|
||
keep his people alive, but when the government refuses to stop
|
||
harassing the Chirakawa Apache tribe, Geronimo jumps the
|
||
reservation, taking a couple hundred Apache with him. Over the
|
||
next five months, he lays waste to white men and Mexicans alike
|
||
along the border.
|
||
|
||
General George Crook, called Nattan Lupan (the Grey Wolf) by
|
||
the Apache, resigns in disgust over losing Geronimo. Gene Hack-
|
||
man gives a compassionate performance as the misguided general,
|
||
who claims to be the tribe's only hope. "Right now, the U.S.
|
||
Army is your best friend," he tells Geronimo, the words ringing
|
||
hollowly over the shame of the warrior's surrender. He really
|
||
believes that what he's doing is for the tribe's benefit, that
|
||
placing them on a reservation is the best thing for both the
|
||
Indians and the U.S. government. Miles (Kevin Tighe), the
|
||
general who takes over Crook's command of the 6th Cavalry,
|
||
proceeds to undo every civility that Crook had implemented. He
|
||
institutes a 5,000 troop manhunt for Geronimo and his band, which
|
||
has dwindled to less than 50 warriors by the time he's found in
|
||
the Mexican hills.
|
||
|
||
But it isn't the Army that finds him, per se. Assigned to
|
||
the task of retrieving Geronimo is 1st Lt. Charles Gatewood
|
||
(Patric), a genuine friend to the tribe and Crook's former
|
||
liaison to the Indians, trusted by both sides; 2nd Lt. Britton
|
||
Davis (Matt Damon), a soldier fresh out of West Pointe who
|
||
accompanied Gatewood on their first "capture" of Geronimo; and
|
||
crusty old Al Seiber (Robert Duvall), head scout for the 6th
|
||
Cavalry and recruiter of Apache scouts. All three actors give
|
||
solid, satisfying performances, with Patric's Virginian gentle-
|
||
man being the most genuine. None of them can match Studi's
|
||
intensity, however. Still, I do like Duvall's line after the
|
||
three discover a group of white bounty hunters have been scalping
|
||
Yaqui Indians in Mexico and selling their scalps as Apache:
|
||
"They're probably Texans, the lowest form of white man there is."
|
||
Ironic, considering Duvall has starred in a number of Texas-based
|
||
films (THE GREAT SANTINI, 1979; TENDER MERCIES, 1982) and is a
|
||
native Texan himself.
|
||
|
||
Animal lovers ain't gonna like GERONIMO. Horses are
|
||
whipped, kicked, flipped, and ridden nose-down into the dirt.
|
||
Though this treatment might have been de rigeur for the Old West
|
||
(no one molly-coddled horses then), expect a hue-and-cry to arise
|
||
from some animal rights organization or other. This treatment is
|
||
just further evidence of the brutality of the film, and added
|
||
testament that Hill apologizes for nothing in his work. He
|
||
presents events the way they are without flinching or judging.
|
||
|
||
Wes Studi, as mentioned before, is an intense Geronimo. His
|
||
portrayal in MOHICANS proved he was an actor to watch, perhaps
|
||
more impressive than the other prominent Native American film
|
||
actor today, Graham Greene (whose first feature role was in
|
||
DANCES WITH WOLVES).
|
||
|
||
RATING: 8 (out of 10)
|
||
|
||
Lights Out
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Bruce Diamond
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
|
||
³ BEETHOVEN'S 2ND: Rod Daniel, director. Len Blum, ³
|
||
³ screenplay. Starring Charles Grodin, Bonnie Hunt, ³
|
||
³ Nicholle Tom, Christopher Castile, Sarah Rose Karr, ³
|
||
³ Debi Mazar, Chris Penn, Ashley Hamilton, and Maury ³
|
||
³ Chaykin. Universal. Rated PG. ³
|
||
ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ
|
||
|
||
Bigger is better in Hollywood, and so for BEETHOVEN'S 2ND,
|
||
(which is actually a cute title for a sequel), Beethoven not only
|
||
gets a girlfriend, but he also gets a litter of four pups, in a
|
||
film that'll have the kids cheering and the parents mildly amused
|
||
for an hour and a half. The plot, such as it is, puts the mommy
|
||
dog, Missy, in the center of a divorced couple's power struggle:
|
||
Regina (Debi Mazar, looking every inch the ice queen here) wants
|
||
$50,000 in alimony, but Brillo (Maury Chaykin) doesn't have it,
|
||
so she takes the dog. Beethoven discovers Missy on one of his
|
||
jaunts and the romance begins. The two youngest Newton kids (the
|
||
family that Beethoven owns), Ted (Christopher Castile) and Emily
|
||
(Sarah Rose Karr) spirit the puppies away before Regina can get
|
||
her hands on them, and spend time away from school to wean the
|
||
puppies and keep them hidden from mom and dad (George and Alice
|
||
Newton, played by Charles Grodin and Bonnie Hunt, respectively).
|
||
|
||
Those are the basics. Of course, the parents find out and
|
||
of course general mayhem ensues as the filmmakers put the Newton
|
||
family through the requisite music video montage of stupid pet
|
||
tricks: peeing in a briefcase, chewing up socks, muddying up
|
||
the laundry, and, in the most amusing scene, riding a skateboard
|
||
down a driveway.
|
||
|
||
In that most typical of movie coincidences, the Newtons take
|
||
a trip to the mountains and end up running across Regina and her
|
||
schlumpf of a boyfriend, Floyd (Chris Penn, in another strange
|
||
character role), at a fair (of course the Newtons take the
|
||
puppies on vacation with them, and of course they take them to
|
||
the fair, otherwise there'd be no second half to the movie.)
|
||
And, of course, Regina takes the puppies, or there'd be no reason
|
||
for Debi Mazar or Chris Penn to be here. The two are so
|
||
relentlessly cruel and stupid (let's not mention the suspended-
|
||
puppy-over-the-cliff scene, shall we?) that they're little more
|
||
than cartoon villains.
|
||
|
||
Between threatening scenes with the bad guys (and why can't
|
||
an animal movie just be about the human-pet interaction, instead
|
||
of throwing in these strange villains and wildly-unbelievable
|
||
situations? -- both BEETHOVEN movies have fallen prey to this
|
||
formula), the eldest sibling, Ryce (Nicholle Tom) falls for two
|
||
different boys, a teenage Lothario (Ashley Hamilton, who eerily
|
||
resembles a young Warren Beatty), and a cycle-riding Deadhead
|
||
(Danny Masterson). Ryce's indecision serves as a minor plot
|
||
counterpoint to Beethoven's "romance" with Missy, and Beethoven
|
||
indirectly helps Ryce decide by giving the Lothario his well-
|
||
deserved comeuppance.
|
||
|
||
Like its forebear, BEETHOVEN'S 2ND is a mere trifle --
|
||
harmless fun that wastes the usually-witty and entertainingly-
|
||
sardonic Charles Grodin.
|
||
|
||
RATING: 2 (out of 10)
|
||
|
||
Lights Out
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Bruce Diamond
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
|
||
³ WAYNE'S WORLD 2: Stephen Surjik, director. Mike Myers ³
|
||
³ and Bonnie Turner & Terry Turner, screenplay. Starring ³
|
||
³ Mike Myers, Dana Carvey, Christopher Walken, Tia ³
|
||
³ Carrere, Ralph Brown, Kim Basinger, Chris Farley, James ³
|
||
³ Hong, Aerosmith, Olivia D'Abo, Ed O'Neill, Harry ³
|
||
³ Shearer, Drew Barrymore, Rip Taylor, and Charlton Hes- ³
|
||
³ ton. Paramount. Rated PG-13. ³
|
||
ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ
|
||
|
||
Thre's a lot to be said for producer Lorne Michaels; though
|
||
his ego seems to have bloated over the years (he appears at least
|
||
once in nearly every "Saturday Night Live" show now), he has
|
||
become the producer of some solidly-entertaining movies from the
|
||
SNL franchise. WAYNE'S WORLD (1992) was wackily inventive, a
|
||
logical extension of the TV sketch, filled with knowing media
|
||
references and surprising cameos. CONEHEADS, released this past
|
||
summer, though not as fresh or as successful at the box office,
|
||
still managed to amuse and delight. WAYNE'S WORLD 2, though, may
|
||
have tarnished the silver a bit.
|
||
|
||
Wayne Campbell (Mike Myers) and Garth Algar (Dana Carvey)
|
||
are back, now out of their parents' homes and living in their own
|
||
babe-loft, an abandoned toy factory that suspiciously resembles
|
||
Cassandra's (Tia Carrere) abode from the first film. Yes,
|
||
Cassandra's back, too, on the verge of a major record deal with
|
||
producer Bobby Cahn (Christopher Walken). Carrere seems more
|
||
aloof this time out, so self-absorbed that when she professes her
|
||
love for Wayne (he's fun and he isn't a jerk like most other
|
||
guys), it doesn't ring true. She even professes her love twice
|
||
(once to the increasingly-neurotic Wayne and once to fend off
|
||
Bobby), but twice unconvincing is one time too many.
|
||
|
||
Wayne and Garth are still producing "Wayne's World," their
|
||
regular cable show, and still indulging their love of heavy metal
|
||
music (they attend an Aerosmith concert). Wayne learns of Cass-
|
||
andra's impeding recording career at the convert and immediately
|
||
begins to feel a sense of loss. (Didn't we see this plot in the
|
||
first film? Hell, if Wayne is this insecure all the time, then
|
||
maybe Cassandra *needs* to dump him.) Wayne's driving force this
|
||
time is a vision of Jim Morrison who tells him to stage a huge
|
||
rock concert called (get ready) Waynestock. (Hoo-hah.) "If you
|
||
book them, they will come," Morrison tells him, before the Naked
|
||
Indian leads him back home.
|
||
|
||
From there it goes completely Looney Tunes, and the more I
|
||
think about it, the more I like it. Myers and James Hong, as
|
||
Cassandra's father visiting from Hong Kong, stage a hilarious
|
||
kung fu duel over Cassandra, complete with badly-dubbed voices,
|
||
whip-crack sound effects (even when Wayne answers the phone in
|
||
the midst of battle), and goofball gravity-defying moves. Hong
|
||
pronounces Wayne a mighty warrior and worthy to woo his daughter.
|
||
Nevermind that his permission is rescinded later or that Wayne
|
||
breaks up with Cassandra over Bobby.
|
||
|
||
Rushing off to London to hire Del Preston (Ralph Brown), the
|
||
greatest roadie that ever lived, to help put on Waynestock, Wayne
|
||
and Garth, they discover that Del has had the same Jim Morrison
|
||
dream. He asks, before they leave, "Didn't you find it totally
|
||
unnecessary to be able to see the crack of the Indian's butt?"
|
||
Hell, I was waiting for Wayne to say that to the Indian himself.
|
||
Del turns out to be a big help, despite being a total burnout and
|
||
despite the lack of bookings. He's seemingly oblivious to that
|
||
aspect of the pre-planning though, because he's stuck in the
|
||
past, telling over and over the same story about breaking into a
|
||
candy store with Jeff Beck to get some brown M&Ms for Ozzy
|
||
Osbourne's candy jar.
|
||
|
||
Going on is useless, because WAYNE'S WORLD 2 is jam-packed
|
||
with these gags, including a throwaway scene capitalizing on
|
||
JURASSIC PARK's success, and an outrageous scene-for-scene parody
|
||
of THE GRADUATE's climax, complete with Simon and Garfunkel's
|
||
"Mrs. Robinson" (deconstructed and re-created later in the
|
||
sequence by The Lemonheads). Stick through the credits for a
|
||
funny take-off on the old Ironeyes Cody public service
|
||
announcement on pollution (still seen sometimes on the Nicko-
|
||
lodeon cable network).
|
||
|
||
RATING: 6 (out of 10)
|
||
|
||
Lyrical Leanings
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
NOW YOU ARE MY HOME
|
||
Cliff Eberhardt
|
||
Shanachie Ent. Corp/Cachet Records Co.
|
||
1993
|
||
|
||
|
||
NOW YOU ARE MY HOME is Cliff Eberhardt's second CD, and an alltogether
|
||
good piece of work. It just isn't as good as it could have been.
|
||
|
||
When I first listened to the CD, I had high hopes for it. Eberhardt's a
|
||
great artist. MY FATHER'S SHOES (from his first album and LEGACY, a folk
|
||
singer/song writer compilation album) is one of my very favorite songs.
|
||
The songs on this disc are good, certainly. But they're not quite what
|
||
they could have been.
|
||
|
||
Call it proof of the sophomore slump if you will. The CD's certainly
|
||
worth a listen, and the first cut (EVER SINCE I LOST YOUR LOVE) is a
|
||
sure sign of what the man can do. A sorrowful ballad of lost love, it
|
||
opens the CD with a bang. Followed by a classy rendition of Smokey
|
||
Robinson's YOU REALLY GOT A HOLD ON ME, the CD really doesn't begin to
|
||
lose steam until halfway through.
|
||
|
||
It isn't that NOW YOU ARE MY HOME is a bad album; it's that it could
|
||
have been so much better. Mr. Eberhardt has a bright future ahead of
|
||
him. With his talent at song writing and a voice and guitar to match,
|
||
his only limit is himself.
|
||
|
||
My score, on a scale of one to ten: 7
|
||
|
||
Music Review
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Liz Shelton
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
SPARE ASS ANNIE AND OTHER TALES
|
||
William S. Burroughs with the Disposable Heros Of Hiphopcracy
|
||
Island Records
|
||
1993
|
||
|
||
|
||
Forget Fabio crooning prose in that sexy Italian accent over romantic
|
||
violins. Give me William S. Burroughs croaking out his warped tales to
|
||
the rhythm of a cool jazz beat. Uncle Bill spins his yarns as only
|
||
Uncle Bill can, highly amusing and terminally hip.
|
||
|
||
Not for the faint of heart, and definitely not for those unappreciative
|
||
of the ultra bizarre. This is the kind of CD I'd make if I could. I
|
||
loved it. Burroughs, the ultimate storyteller combined with the hiphop
|
||
jazz accompanyment leaves one laughing to the rhythm of their tapping
|
||
toes. For me, 'tis this perfect combination that makes this CD such a
|
||
unique experience.
|
||
|
||
And I quote, cut number 3: "Uncle Bill is your friend. Never forget
|
||
that."
|
||
|
||
My rating, on a scale of 1 - 10: 8
|
||
|
||
Music Review
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Heather DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
ALAPALOOZA
|
||
"Weird Al" Yankovic
|
||
Scotti Bros. Records
|
||
1993
|
||
|
||
|
||
Alapalooza is another weird trip into the psyche of Weird Al Yankovic.
|
||
Beginning with the first trak, "Jurassic Park" (a parody of "McArthur Park"),
|
||
this CD manages to be totally devoid of, and at the same time filled with,
|
||
social commentary. Well, maybe not. But it is a fun CD to listen to.
|
||
|
||
Some of the tracks to make sure to pay attention to include: "Harvey the
|
||
Wonder Hamster" (the words go "Harvey/Harvey/Harvey the Wonder Hamster/He
|
||
doesn't bite/he doesn't squeal/he just runs around/on his hamster wheel/He's
|
||
Harvey/Harvey/Harvey the Wonder Hamster!!!"). Also don't miss the "Achy
|
||
Breaky Song" (if you have to be told what this is a parody of, you've probably
|
||
been in a coma for quite some time now), and "Bohemian Polka", the entire
|
||
song to "Bohemian Rhapsody" done with a polka beat.
|
||
|
||
I do feel kind of old after listening to this CD, because some of the songs
|
||
being parodied I've never heard of, even though I thought I kept abreast
|
||
of what new stuff was being released in the music industry, but all in all
|
||
it is definitely worth the money I paid for it. Well, it was a Christmas
|
||
gift, so I guess I really didn't pay anything for it. It was still
|
||
a good CD, though.
|
||
|
||
My score (out of a possible 10): 8
|
||
|
||
Book Reviews
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
LADY SLINGS THE BOOZE
|
||
Spider Robinson
|
||
ACE Science Fiction
|
||
$4.99 US, $5.99 Canada
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
This is Spider Robinson's first Callahan-related novel since CALLAHAN'S
|
||
LADY a couple of years back. This novel isn't really a sequel, though it
|
||
repeats the setting and several of the characters. Like the original
|
||
CALLAHAN'S CROSSTIME SALOON and it's two sequels, the book contains
|
||
several funny stories, a lot of puns, and a mishap or two.
|
||
|
||
In this case, Detective Joe Quigley has been hired by a big-name
|
||
politician (never revealed, but strongly hinted at) to investigate some
|
||
strange happenings at Lady Callahan's House (a high-class brothel) on
|
||
the other side of town. He's given few if any facts, and even less to go
|
||
on. He's to meet with Lady Callahan herself to get the actual scoop on
|
||
what he's been hired to do.
|
||
|
||
The interplay between the characters is fun and lively, and filled with
|
||
enough puns to make ever the worst punster (myself included) happy.
|
||
However, when it comes to a plot, this is where the book falls short.
|
||
|
||
As it turns out, someone is accosting the artists (read: prostitutes) at
|
||
Lady Sally's place. The frequency and viciousness of the crimes seems
|
||
to be increasing each night, and not only can't the catch the man
|
||
responsible there are no witnesses and they don't know who he is.
|
||
|
||
The solution to the problem is interesting and creative, and Mr. Quigley
|
||
does indeed eventually get his man. However, how the story arrives to
|
||
that point is somewhat contrived and simplistic. Worse still, the
|
||
storyline ends halfway through the book. The second half moves in a
|
||
totally different direction and takes on no less a plot than saving the
|
||
entire world.
|
||
|
||
The original CALLAHAN'S CROSSTIME SALOON books were a collection of
|
||
previously published short stories. They were full of humor, puns, and
|
||
even a moral lesson or two. They were great, and there's few better and
|
||
writing in the science fiction humor genre than Spider Robinson. He
|
||
should have stuck to that approach with this novel, because what he
|
||
ended up with was a sort of hybrid which just didn't work.
|
||
|
||
Regardless of the novel's flaws (and there's a lot) it's still a fun
|
||
read, and one that no true fan of Mr. Robinson's should be without. It's
|
||
worth the cover price, if you buy it in paperback.
|
||
|
||
|
||
My score on a scale of one to ten: 6
|
||
|
||
Book Review
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Thomas Van Hook
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
The Adept by Katherine Kurtz and Deborah Turner Harris
|
||
Ace Books March 1991 Copyright 1991 ISBN 0-441-00343-5
|
||
Pages: 323
|
||
|
||
I have never found myself endeared to the genre of
|
||
Mystery/Suspense-Thriller novels. I felt tortured by the slow, plodding
|
||
pace designed to absorb the reader in the plot. Being that I am not a
|
||
very patient reader, I continually found myself bored to tears at times
|
||
waiting for the characters to develop. That's why I found myself
|
||
groaning when I first started The Adept by Katherine Kurtz and Deborah
|
||
Turner Harris. "Another slow-moving Mystery novel," I said to myself,
|
||
"What a fun time it is going to be getting through this one." I was in
|
||
for a pleasant surprise halfway through the novel.
|
||
|
||
The story starts by working on the main characters Sir Adam Sinclair and
|
||
Peregrine Lovat. Sinclair is a Psychologist, nobleman and a scholar,
|
||
who is deeply involved with Cabalistic Magick. This is, of course,
|
||
hidden from his friends who never would suspect him of such behavior.
|
||
Peregrine Lovat is an up and coming artist who can see a person's aura,
|
||
past lives AND future. It is the last aspect of his "gift" that he just
|
||
can't come to grips with. The two characters meet when Lovat is
|
||
painting a portrait of Sinclair's neighbor, Lady Laura Kintoul, who
|
||
suspects that Lovat is about to commit suicide. Sinclair correctly
|
||
surmises what Lovat's problem is and after a crisis arises for Lovat,
|
||
sets out to help him control his "gift." This covers the first half of
|
||
the novel, which I consider to be one-fourth too much. The plot slows
|
||
to a virtual claw while Sinclair shows Lovat time and again how to
|
||
control his gift in various manners.
|
||
|
||
In the meantime, a Black Lodge of Magicians has set up "shop" in
|
||
Scotland. They make their presence known by stealing a famed "Wizard's"
|
||
sword and then desecrating the grave of the infamous Scottish wizard,
|
||
Michael Scot. Sinclair is enlisted to help solve the crime due to his
|
||
Occult knowledge by one of his friends (one that knows of his ties to
|
||
the Occult). The remainder of the novel deals with how Sinclair and
|
||
Lovat discover the Black Lodge's intent for the stolen items and their
|
||
efforts to stop them in carrying out their plot.
|
||
|
||
Reading this novel is much akin to climbing a hill. You will make slow
|
||
progress at first, but after reaching the apex and starting down the
|
||
other side of the hill, the pace will pick up dramatically. I couldn't
|
||
bring myself to set this book down once I started the second half of it.
|
||
However, the first half really killed my liking for the novel as a
|
||
whole.
|
||
|
||
My rating on a scale of one to ten: 6
|
||
|
||
Book Reviews
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Heather DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
MR. MURDER
|
||
Dean Koontz
|
||
G. P. Putnam's Sons Publishing
|
||
$23.95 (at this writing only available in hardback)
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
In the first 100 pages of this book, any reader that has read a lot of
|
||
Dean Koontz's work (such as myself) thinks "Oh, boy... Another cliched
|
||
horror novel in which the protagonist has an evil alter-ego, probably an
|
||
alternative personality fragmented by some unremembered terror endured
|
||
during childhood." At least, that's what I thought. My husband, who has
|
||
not read much horror but a lot of sci-fi thought "Oh, boy... Another
|
||
cliched sci-fi novel in which the protagonist has an evil doppelganger,
|
||
probably the result of some cloning research experiment gone awry."
|
||
|
||
The suspense comes in determining which of these two cliched concepts
|
||
is actually at work in this novel. In the process of bringing us to the
|
||
conclusion, Dean Koontz continues to exhibit a wonderful story-telling
|
||
style that leaves the reader engrossed in the book until the final page,
|
||
where the "surprise" ending is revealed to be..... well, I can't tell you,
|
||
it'd ruin the surprise.
|
||
|
||
The Mr. Murder in the title of the book is a murder mystery writer, and
|
||
a lot of this book is spent poking fun at the writing profession. It
|
||
is obvious that Koontz doesn't take himself too seriously as a writer,
|
||
which makes the book even more delightful to read.
|
||
|
||
I highly recommend that any reader read past the first 100 pages of this
|
||
book before tossing it into the "not worthy of finishing" pile, as
|
||
the last 305 pages make the trudge through the first 100 pages more than
|
||
worthwhile.
|
||
|
||
My score (out of a possible 10): 8.5
|
||
(losing points only for the first
|
||
100 pages)
|
||
ÜÜÜÜÜ Ü°°°°° ±±° ° ÜÜÜ ° ° °° °±±± ú ²±ß ܲ± °°°°°°°°°°±±±°°°°°
|
||
ú ß ßß±²²Ü °° °±±° ß ß±°Ü °°°° °° ± ú ²²± ÜÛ²±ß °°°°°°°°°°°±±°°°°
|
||
°°°° °ß²²²Ü ° ° ± °°° ß±±Ü° °° °° °±±Ü ܲ±±±Þ²ß ÜÛ²± °°°°±±±°°°°±±±°°°
|
||
ú °°°ÞÛÜÜ°°ß²±±²Ü °°° ÜÜÜ ß²±±² °° °°° °°°±±±± ² ܲÛß °°°°°°±±°°°°°±±°°
|
||
ú °°° Þ²°ÛÛÜ° ß±±±±±²ÜÜÛ²²²²±Ü ²²°ÜßÜ°°° °°±°±±±±²Ý±²ß ²²² °°°±±°°°±±±±°±°°
|
||
°°°°° ß²°°°ÛÛÜ° °°°±²±±±±Û²²±±°°Üß ÜÜÜÜÜ °°±± ÜÛ²ß °°±±±±±±±±±±°°±
|
||
°°° °° °²²°°°ßÛÛ°±±²ßßßÛ²±±²²²°ßܲ²²²²²²²Ü ±±°° °±²ÛÛß ÜÛ²± °°°±±±±±±±±°±±±
|
||
°°°°° ° ß²²°°°±°±²Û ÜÜ ß²±°ßܲßÜÜÜÜ Üܲݰ±±°° ²Ûß °°±±±±±±±±±±±
|
||
ú °°° °°° °ß²²²±°°±²Û ßÛ ßܲßÜÞ²²²²²²°Ý² ±±±±°°°°°°Ü °±²ÛÜ °°²±±±±±±±±±
|
||
°°°° ° °° ±°±±²²²ÜÜÜÜÛßÜÞ±²ÛÛ±±Û²ÝÛÝ ÛÛÛ²²²²²²²±°° ß² °°²²²²±±±±±±
|
||
°° °° °°° ±°±±±±±±Ûß Ý²²²±Û²²²ÛÛÛ °°ÛÛÛÛ²²²²²²²±±± ±±± °°²²²²²²²±±±
|
||
ú ° °°°° ° °°±±±ÛÛÛÜ ²²²°±²ÛÛ²²ÜÜÜßßßÛÛÛÛÛ²²²²²²²²Ü ± ±±ÛÛÛ²²²²²±±
|
||
ú °°°°±± ß°±±²ÛÛ²ÛÜ°²²°±ÛÛÛÛ²²²²²²ÜÜÜßßÛÛÛÛÛ²²²²² Û±Û²²²²²²²²
|
||
ú ß°±ßÛÛÛÛ²Ûß°Ûß°²ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ²²²²ÜÜßßÛÛ²²²² ± ÞÛÛÛ²²²²²²²
|
||
Legend Of The Red Dragon ßÛÛÛ²ÛÛÛÛ °²ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ²²²²²Üß²²²²Û Þ ÛÛÛ²²²²²²Û
|
||
3.0 ú ܲ°±±ßß²ÛÛÛÛ °²ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ²²²²Üß²ßß ² ÝÝÛÛ²²²ÛÛß
|
||
ܲ²²²²²±ÜÜ ßßß °±²ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ²²²²Ü Û²²Ý ÞÞÞÛ²²Ûß °
|
||
A fantastic door becomes ±±±±±²²²² °±²²ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ²²²²Û²²²Ý ÜÝÛÛÛÛß °°
|
||
better. Pick it up ܲ۲ÛÛ±²²ß Þ ß°±²²ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ²²Üß² ²ÝÛÛß ±±±±
|
||
Jan 1st, '94. ÜÛ²Û±²²²Û²Ü ÛÛ °±±²²ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ²²²ÛÜ Ü²ßÞß ²±±±±±
|
||
ú Û²²Û±±²²ÛÛ²²ÛÜ ßÛÛÜÜ°°±ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ²²²²²²²² ÛÛÛÛÛ²²
|
||
Multi-node battle. Þ²Ûß Û²Û ß²ÛÝ ßÛ²Û²²²²±±°±±°°²²Ûßßß ÜÛ²ÛÜ ßÛ
|
||
RIP support. ß ß ß ÜÜßßßÛ°°±±±°°ÛßÛÛ²²²²ÛÛÛÛß
|
||
Support BBS: The Darkside (503) 838-6171.
|
||
|
||
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
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|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² Fiction ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
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||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
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||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
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||
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|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
The Caravan
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, A.M.Eckard
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
[ Editor's Note: This story was printed, almost in it's entirety, last
|
||
issue. However, do to a unfortunate mistake, a few lines were left out
|
||
of the ending. A decision was made to reprint it in this issue.
|
||
Enjoy!]
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
The Caravan by A.M.Eckard
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
I like the veld. What choice do I have? There is nothing but
|
||
the veld. It is mostly brown with a little green. It smells of
|
||
sage and sand. It is hot in the day and cold at night. The
|
||
lexicon in the Feed calls it the Gaia. The lexicon I got from
|
||
Dad calls it the veld.
|
||
|
||
Dad said I should name things according to the Feed when I'm
|
||
talking to the people of the clans. Since no one will see this,
|
||
I'll call it the veld. That's what Dad always called it before
|
||
he left. Dad showed me how to change the lexicon in the Feed,
|
||
but he said I shouldn't do it. He taught me a lot of neat things
|
||
before he left. I still come across new messages to me in his
|
||
lexicon. He was very good with computers.
|
||
|
||
This is the time of the Winding-Down. That's what both lexicons
|
||
call it. This is the time of desert and wind. This is the time
|
||
of scarcity and drought. This is the time of hunger and thirst.
|
||
The Feed says that this was not always so, but it does not say
|
||
what was before. There's a lot in Dad's lexicon about it, but I
|
||
find it hard to believe. I've thought of editing it out. I don't
|
||
because Dad said that was definitely a bad thing to do.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
I spend my time traveling the veld. I scavenge in the veld.
|
||
Collecting and fixing things is my trade. I trade with the
|
||
clans. Dad showed me my JobDesc in the Feed. It said I was a
|
||
fixer. I looked up my JobDesc in Dad's lexicon. That said I was
|
||
a maker. There was an attachment from Dad with it saying I
|
||
should never call myself a maker when I was with the clans. He
|
||
said the clans don't have makers anymore. The clans don't want
|
||
makers.
|
||
|
||
According to Dad's lexicon the clans had traders that did what
|
||
I do. The makers would make, the fixers would fix, and the
|
||
traders would trade. I guess with fewer people there are fewer
|
||
JobDescs. That is all part of the Winding-Down.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
In the veld I have seen the skeletons of many people. There
|
||
were a lot more clans once. They say there were so many clans
|
||
that they lived side-by-side. Things have changed. In my own
|
||
traveling I have seen fewer and fewer clans.
|
||
|
||
The clans don't move around very much. I make my living by
|
||
traveling to them. I bury my needs, take my wares, and join them
|
||
for a day. I trade what I have to trade and fix what needs
|
||
fixing. By nightfall I must leave. That is the clan way. Usually
|
||
I camp nearby. I like watching the clans. I have tools to watch
|
||
them with that are better than their guards. I can spot Rovers
|
||
many klicks away.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
I spend most of my time on my own. Before Dad left we stayed
|
||
together most of the time. It was like we were a clan of two. We
|
||
were the only clan of two I have ever seen. Dad said we were a
|
||
family. I really don't know what that means. It's not in either
|
||
of the lexicons.
|
||
|
||
Dad and I would grow our own food and make our own water. Dad
|
||
would visit the clans and trade. I would stay behind and study
|
||
the lexicons. Sometimes we would hunt the Rovers when they got
|
||
too close. Dad said they had their purpose, too, but not too
|
||
close to camp. We would protect the clans from the rovers, too.
|
||
|
||
For a long time Dad wouldn't let me visit the clans. He said
|
||
that it was because I was small and this was the time of the
|
||
Winding-Down. He said the clans wouldn't accept me. I don't
|
||
remember everything he said and the lexicons don't really help
|
||
much.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
There are things in Dad's lexicon that he added. He said he was
|
||
the last one who could work on the lexicon. There are some
|
||
things in Dad's lexicon that don't exist anymore. In the Feed
|
||
they are Deletes. In Dad's lexicon they are Obsoletes. Dad said
|
||
they were important because they didn't exist anymore.
|
||
|
||
The best I can figure is that I was an Obsolete. I was a kinder
|
||
in a time when there were no more kinder. I changed in a time
|
||
when there was no change. I was a begat in a time when there
|
||
were no more begats.
|
||
|
||
Dad said that there was a Golden Age when mankind tried to stop
|
||
change. He said it didn't work and I was part of the proof.
|
||
|
||
I'm not a kinder anymore, so I can visit the clans.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
There is a part of the Feed and Dad's lexicon that are almost
|
||
exactly the same. It concerns the Mystics. It says that after
|
||
the Golden Age comes the Winding-Down. It says that women are
|
||
barren and men are sterile. It says that all the new souls are
|
||
maxed-out. The Bodhis say that no more souls are becoming
|
||
incarnate. The Xians say that Judgment is here. The Pagas say
|
||
that Gaia seeds men no more. It goes on and on. I guess each
|
||
clan has its own way of saying it. But it never really explains
|
||
what it is. It just says that it is the Winding-Down and it
|
||
doesn't sound good. Dad said that it was not strictly true. He
|
||
never said what was strictly true.
|
||
|
||
I talked about it with some of the teachers in the clans. The
|
||
ones that didn't show me the Feed all said something different.
|
||
Some said the Winding-Down was a coming whimper. Some said it
|
||
was a coming roar. Most just changed the subject and told me to
|
||
be out by nightfall.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
Dad taught me studying. He taught me to study the veld. He
|
||
taught me to study the clans. He taught me to study the
|
||
lexicons. He studied with me. He studied me. He never told me
|
||
what he saw. There is a section in his lexicon about me, but it
|
||
is Access Denied. There is an attachment that is only for me. It
|
||
says that I should travel the veld as a fixer. It says that I
|
||
will really know myself by what I do. He said that no one should
|
||
tell me what I am. He said that I should tell them what I am by
|
||
being what I am. Dad spoke that way a lot.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
I have encountered more traveling clans. They travel, they
|
||
said, because the Winding-Down was getting faster and faster.
|
||
Some of the clans that didn't travel said that the Winding-Down
|
||
was getting faster and faster because of the traveling clans.
|
||
Sometimes when I would go back to those clans I would find that
|
||
they had picked up and started traveling.
|
||
|
||
The traveling clans were good for business. Traveling always
|
||
makes things break down faster. There was always a need for my
|
||
services. I can always find ways to make something work for
|
||
another day.
|
||
|
||
I came to realize that I no longer had to make my rounds. I
|
||
could travel North and South along the last of the hills. I
|
||
would always come across a clan traveling from East to West. I
|
||
had more work than I needed. Sometimes I would sit in the hills
|
||
for days and watch the clans go by.
|
||
|
||
I spent a long time in the hills. It gave me a feeling of
|
||
peace, so I kept it for a while.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
There came a time when out of the East there raised a cloud of
|
||
dust so large I thought I would finally see a storm. It
|
||
approached very slowly. I used a spy and saw that it was a group
|
||
of people traveling in a line. It was more than a clan. It was a
|
||
clan of clans. It was like nothing that has ever been. Instead
|
||
of camos they traveled with their colors and flags. I moved in
|
||
line with them and waited. Finally they circled in the valley
|
||
and stopped. I went down to them.
|
||
|
||
The guards waved as I approached. I asked them what kind of
|
||
clan they were. They said they were not a clan. They were the
|
||
Caravan. Clans were joining them from far and wide. They said
|
||
they were passing through. They asked me if I would like to come
|
||
along.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
I had never seen anything like the Caravan. There was nothing
|
||
in the lexicons. They spent everything they had on color and
|
||
sound and movement. People were actually dancing. Hawkers sold
|
||
food and it was very cheap. They had a converter and gave water
|
||
away for free. I spent the rest of the first day fixing and
|
||
mixing, in awe of their ways. These were not hoarders. These
|
||
were not scrabblers in the veld. They were just making their way
|
||
through. They were the Caravan.
|
||
|
||
I made three trips to the veld to bury my needs. They just
|
||
laughed and shook their heads at me.
|
||
|
||
I was fixing things that were a delight, but were of no use.
|
||
There were bells on wagon wheels. There were chimes on wagons.
|
||
There were little colored windmills that turned no wheels. There
|
||
were bellows that sounded horns.
|
||
|
||
As the evening approached, I helped to raise great tents and
|
||
small. When the sun touched the hills I cleaned myself off and
|
||
began gathering my things. I would not go far, I thought. I
|
||
might follow this group a while.
|
||
|
||
I was making for the nearest cover when someone asked me if I
|
||
would stay. I just laughed. What else could I do? But they meant
|
||
it. They said that I could stay the night. They would be off in
|
||
the morning and, if I wanted to, I could travel with them. I
|
||
just shook my head no and hurried away. I dug my camp and buried
|
||
my wares and watched them.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
The word Carnival was in Dad's lexicon. It seemed to be close
|
||
to what I saw. They danced and played. There were jugglers and
|
||
clowns and acrobats. They cooked food in the open and the smells
|
||
drifted to my camp. They sang and chanted. It went on for hours
|
||
and hours. They burned lights all night long that could be seen
|
||
across the veld. When I grew tired I slept, listening to their
|
||
music.
|
||
|
||
In the morning I helped strike the tents. When the first were
|
||
off I stood aside. They all called me friend although I was a
|
||
member of none of the clans. They said that clans meant nothing
|
||
now. They were members of the Caravan. It was Winding-Down time
|
||
and the clans were gone for them. They asked me if I would come
|
||
along, if only for just a while. I did.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
The Caravan traveled and made good time. I helped when things
|
||
needed fixing. Everyone called me friend. They said that I
|
||
should see the Queen at the next halt and join them. Throughout
|
||
the day I considered it. Before this my clan had been only Dad
|
||
and me. Dad had been gone for a long time. I decided I liked the
|
||
idea.
|
||
|
||
As on the previous day, the halt was called in the afternoon.
|
||
The Caravan circled. The tents went up. The fires were lit. The
|
||
music and the play began. I was sent to see the Queen.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
The Queen's tent was the largest tent of all. It was decorated
|
||
with the colors of all the clans. Everywhere I looked there were
|
||
the symbols of the clans and the symbols of all the workers. It
|
||
was so fine it made my eyes water.
|
||
|
||
The Queen's consorts were all women. They brought me food and
|
||
water and welcomed me to the Caravan. They brought me a robe of
|
||
Caravan colors and asked me for my sign. I asked them where the
|
||
Caravan was going. They told me it was going to the end.
|
||
|
||
"This is the Caravan," they said. "We are traveling on the
|
||
journey of the Winding-Down and we are traveling to the end."
|
||
|
||
They coached me on the form of my formal petition to the Queen.
|
||
They laughed and joked and said that I was the first clan of one
|
||
to join. Finally they led me to an inner chamber of the tent
|
||
where I was brought before the Queen.
|
||
|
||
She was a handsome woman with hair slightly touched by gray. I
|
||
was taken by her air of knowledge and wisdom. When I looked in
|
||
her eyes I was reminded of dad. There seemed to be a similar
|
||
light of intelligence and humor and sadness. When I found my
|
||
voice I introduced myself to her as her consorts had instructed
|
||
me to.
|
||
|
||
"I have no clan," I said. "I am a helper and a fixer. I would
|
||
be honored if you would allow me to join your Caravan. I will
|
||
offer my services freely, and ask only that my needs be met."
|
||
|
||
It was at this point in my speech that I had been instructed to
|
||
stop. I had been told that the Queen would nod to accept me or
|
||
shake her head. I had been told that she never shook her head. I
|
||
had been told that I should then bow and leave.
|
||
|
||
But I did not. Perhaps it was that she reminded me of Dad.
|
||
Perhaps it was that the Caravan was like nothing I had ever seen
|
||
and I wanted so badly to become a part of it. Perhaps it was the
|
||
curious way she seemed to look into me and see more of me than
|
||
anyone ever had. Whatever the reason, I could not contain myself
|
||
and I continued on.
|
||
|
||
Against my Dad's wishes, I said, "I am a maker. I also can make
|
||
things new."
|
||
|
||
I could hear a few of the consorts gasp. I looked at the shock
|
||
on their faces as they covered their mouths and knew that I had
|
||
made a mistake.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
The Queen stood from her chair and approached me. All eyes were
|
||
upon her as she put her finger to my lips and said "Shhhh." Her
|
||
hand smelled of sage and balsam. To the amazement of myself and
|
||
everyone there, she took my hand and led me into her inner
|
||
chambers.
|
||
|
||
The others were told to remain outside. She lay down on her bed
|
||
and bid me bring a table and chair to her side. Every time I
|
||
tried to speak she would touch my lips. She would shake her head
|
||
with a frown, but her mouth would barely smile. She brought out
|
||
a deck of cards with colors and pictures I'd never seen before.
|
||
There were more than in a deck of chance, she explained.
|
||
|
||
"I fear the others may have been too eager to invite you to
|
||
join our ranks, but we will see," she said. "These are cards of
|
||
old. They were called future cards before the Winding-Down. Now
|
||
they are the cards that guide us on the path to the end. I use
|
||
them to know the way and set our course for each new day. They
|
||
once had another use."
|
||
|
||
She extinguished the lamps and set four candles down, one on
|
||
each corner of the table. The chamber was cool and smelled of
|
||
anise and patchouli. Not a breeze stirred the candle flames as
|
||
they burned.
|
||
|
||
"Come and shuffle the cards as if they were a deck of chance,"
|
||
she said, "then cut them three times to your left."
|
||
|
||
I did as I was told.
|
||
|
||
She spread the cards on the table in a strange pattern and took
|
||
a deep breath. She shook her head, but still smiled at me.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
"Here is the Queen," she said. "I've seen her many times. She
|
||
is my card and she sits before you."
|
||
|
||
"Here is the Mage, though not the one I've known."
|
||
|
||
When she looked at me I thought of Dad, but said nothing. I was
|
||
in awe of her and could not interrupt her words.
|
||
|
||
"Here is the ending," she said, "fruits of the seeds our
|
||
forebears have sown. There is nothing new here. This is the way
|
||
we have come."
|
||
|
||
She paused as she turned the next card, then turned a few more.
|
||
I believe her hand shook a little as she turned the last. Her
|
||
voice had been quiet, but now came even quieter than before.
|
||
|
||
"Here is the maker, and here is the crone. Here is a girl-child
|
||
and here a boy. Here is a birthing and here a joy. And here is a
|
||
soul-star." She started to cry.
|
||
|
||
I tried to speak, but again she silenced me. She sat for a long
|
||
time with her palms together in front of her face. Tears
|
||
streamed from her eyes and she breathed in small gasps. Finally
|
||
she blew out three of the candles and took me to her bed.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
First we made love with a quiet ferocity I had never known.
|
||
Then we were tender and savored the moments that seemed like
|
||
hours. I told her I loved her and I would travel with the
|
||
Caravan forever. She cried then, and shook her head no.
|
||
|
||
"We don't have forever, anymore."
|
||
|
||
She sat before the single candle and spoke, looking older than
|
||
any of the people ever looked.
|
||
|
||
"There were makers and fixers once that worked on people
|
||
instead of things. It was decided that the people would never
|
||
grow old, would never sicken and die. It was decided that
|
||
children would not be born and man and woman would live simply
|
||
with Gaia. The makers and fixers had their way and planned their
|
||
way with Gaia, too. Everything was changed according to a grand
|
||
plan."
|
||
|
||
"But they hadn't planned well. The Gaia cannot be fixed. Man
|
||
cannot be made and fixed. The Winding-Down began."
|
||
|
||
"What kind of man are you, maker? How have you come here?"
|
||
|
||
I told her what Dad had told me. I told her the secret that I
|
||
had been a kinder and I had grown. I told her of Dad's lexicon,
|
||
the lessons he had taught me and the lessons that waited for me
|
||
still.
|
||
|
||
She blew out the last candle, held me close, and told me to
|
||
sleep. It was a long time before I could.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
In the morning I awoke to the sound of her shuffling the cards.
|
||
When she saw I was awake she called her ladies with a little
|
||
bell and bid them bring me food and water and clothes the colors
|
||
of the Caravan. My heart swelled with hope, but her head shook
|
||
no. She studied the cards while I dressed and ate.
|
||
|
||
"You cannot come with us," she sighed. "We are the Caravan of
|
||
the Winding-Down. You must stay here in the veld and wait.
|
||
Others will come the way we have come. These are the stragglers,
|
||
the lost, the late."
|
||
|
||
"You will show them my sign. They will give you what you need,
|
||
and you will help them with their needs. They will be like us
|
||
and you will show them the way we have gone and send them along."
|
||
|
||
"But what about me?" I asked. "What of this Caravan? What about
|
||
us?"
|
||
|
||
"This is the Winding-Down. Eventually no more will come from
|
||
the East. But you must stay. We are not meant to travel the same
|
||
path."
|
||
|
||
"One day someone will come from the West. Just one, or two, or
|
||
a few. You must wait for that day. They will bring you my sign.
|
||
Then you must make your own way."
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
She turned from me then, and was gone. The camp was struck. I
|
||
watched her Caravan travel out of sight as I have watched
|
||
others. With each that has come and gone I have sent a note:
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Will this be the last time, my love?
|
||
|
||
The crowds depart.
|
||
|
||
All the songs are songs of farewell.
|
||
|
||
Everyone seems to have gathered here to leave.
|
||
|
||
I am a pilgrim in this land
|
||
|
||
and there are things you have not told me;
|
||
|
||
things I should have known.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
It has been a long time now. The pain that I felt on her
|
||
leaving somehow does not hurt as much anymore. Somehow things
|
||
seem to be as they should be. I look to the West and there is
|
||
hope. In Dad's lexicon hope is something that hurts but feels
|
||
good. Hope is something that grows amidst loss.
|
||
|
||
Hope is something I've added to the lexicon of the Feed.
|
||
|
||
He Comes on Ancient Winds
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Robert McKay
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
*He Comes on Ancient Winds*
|
||
by Robert McKay
|
||
|
||
|
||
On a dark night the fog rolled over the landscape like a living
|
||
thing. Unlike normal fog, this was a thick, clammy mist that seemed to
|
||
move of its own accord. No wind blew it along, yet it moved, clinging
|
||
to the rounded slopes of the hills and sweeping through the draws with
|
||
an almost purposeful air. It passed over the outlying hills, and moved
|
||
inexorably through the town, providing those few who were still out and
|
||
about a small thrill of unease as it slipped silently along.
|
||
The next day few people in Wilson spoke of the fog. It was an
|
||
oddity that had come and gone in the depths of the night, and when day
|
||
came there were more pressing, if more mundane, matters to discuss.
|
||
In the feed store, on the courthouse square, on street corners,
|
||
men discussed the weather, the prospects for the crops that year, the
|
||
price of beef and wool. As always, some muttered darkly about the
|
||
goings on in the state capital, just 20 miles away, though hidden by
|
||
the gently green and rolling hills, and about the policies sent forth
|
||
from Washington, where no matter which party and which administration
|
||
was in power, agriculture seemed to be a total mystery.
|
||
In the Agnes Cafe a scattering of men sat at the counter nursing
|
||
coffee, while two or three others sat at the formica tables finishing
|
||
their donuts or scrambled eggs. Agnes was long gone - she'd died in
|
||
the '50s, and by now the cafe had passed into entirely unrelated hands.
|
||
But the name on painted on the window remained the same, and the
|
||
customers did likewise, the older farmers and ranchers giving way
|
||
slowly and reluctantly to their young successors. Overalls still
|
||
dominated the place, though Levis were beginning to sprinkle themselves
|
||
through the regular clientele as they were through the farming
|
||
population.
|
||
The door opened with a crash - something that never happened, for
|
||
the hydraulic door closer was old and stiff and everyone had learned
|
||
over the years of its decaying smoothness to lean heavily on the door
|
||
to open it. Eyes turned to see what could possibly have created the
|
||
impossibly swift and hard opening of the stubborn door. A stranger
|
||
stood in the doorway, reaching to retrieve the door, and swing it shut
|
||
again, which he did with an ease that belied the stiffness of the door
|
||
closer. As he turned from closing the door, he said in a soft, cold
|
||
voice, "I apologize for the racket. I was distracted, and paid no
|
||
attention to what I was doing as I entered."
|
||
Amid looks between customers, the stranger walked to the counter.
|
||
He was tall, broad-shouldered, thin. His skin was pale, not with the
|
||
whiteness of one who receives no sun, but the pallor of the dead. His
|
||
nose was high and arrogant, bisecting a face of such marble coldness it
|
||
might have been the carved representation of divine hauteur. His hair
|
||
was a black that was almost blue, combed straight back from his high
|
||
smooth forehead. The hands were long, the fingers thin and supple, and
|
||
a scattering of hairs grew from the palms. He was dressed in a black
|
||
suit, with a single red carnation in the button hole. The stranger
|
||
walked across the floor noiselessly, though the linoleum tiles were
|
||
cracked in many places and even without boots it was impossible to be
|
||
absolutely quiet. The customers who had already been in the cafe
|
||
looked at each other curiously as the stranger seated himself at the
|
||
counter, between two older farmers with the thickness of years of work
|
||
and the stains of earth and nicotine on their fingers. As he lowered
|
||
himself onto the stool, a simultaneous look of revulsion passed over
|
||
the faces of the two men, who as if by common pre-agreement swiftly
|
||
drained the remainder of their coffee, threw a bill or two on the
|
||
counter, and hurriedly went out.
|
||
The new customer appeared not to notice the reaction of the two
|
||
men who had gone out, examining the tattered menu with apparent
|
||
interest. The waitress stepped over with a glass of water in one hand
|
||
and a coffee pot in the other. "You ready to order?" she asked.
|
||
"Yes." The stranger's voice was so low that the waitress had to
|
||
lean forward slightly to be sure of hearing it. "I'll have a ham and
|
||
cheese omelet, hash browns, and hot tea."
|
||
"All right." The waitress, whose name tag identified her as
|
||
Sherry, scribbled the order on her pad, tore off the sheet, and slapped
|
||
it down on the sill of the window that communicated with the kitchen.
|
||
Turning back to the stranger, who had slipped the menu back into its
|
||
rack, she asked, "New in town, aren't you?"
|
||
"Yes." The stranger's lips moved in a slight smile - a bare
|
||
gesture.
|
||
"Stayin' long?"
|
||
"I don't know. It depends on my tastes."
|
||
"You don't look like a farmer or a rancher," Sherry observed,
|
||
leaning back against the ice cream machine. "Nor yet anything else I
|
||
can think of to move into a small town."
|
||
The stranger smiled his meager smile again. "I was informed that
|
||
citizens of small towns were inquisitive." He made a show of
|
||
inspecting his nails, which were impeccably clean. "I am a self-
|
||
contained man. I do that which pleases me, and I live where it pleases
|
||
me to live. What does not please me is to be required to give a full
|
||
biography to all and sundry." The slight smile had disappeared, and
|
||
Sherry took the hint.
|
||
"Well, I guess I know how to mind my own business too. But what
|
||
do you want us to call you, if you do stay in town?"
|
||
"You may call me Mr. Carver. Jared Carver."
|
||
The cook slid the plate of omelet and potatoes across the
|
||
stainless steel sill of his window, smacking the chrome bell that
|
||
seems to be a required furnishing in all small town restaurants.
|
||
Sherry grabbed the plate and clacked it down in front of Carver.
|
||
Without a word she turned away, finding something to occupy her behind
|
||
the counter.
|
||
Carver ate silently, voraciously. He seemed to enjoy his food,
|
||
but at the same time his teeth, exposed briefly each time he took a
|
||
bite, seemed to champ down on the eggs and hash browns with a touch too
|
||
much force, as if he would have preferred to be eating live meat.
|
||
When he finished, Carver shoved his plate back with a finger, and
|
||
took up the check. Glancing at the total, he reached into the pocket
|
||
of his suit coat and withdrew a long, thin wallet. From within it he
|
||
extracted a couple of bills. Sliding them and the check across the
|
||
counter, he waited while the waitress rang up his meal and counted out
|
||
the change. Pocketing some change and a bill, he stacked the rest on
|
||
the counter and slid it toward Sherry. Without a word, he then rose
|
||
and left, this time without overpowering the door.
|
||
* * *
|
||
Through the day, the dark, tall form of Jared Carver appeared at
|
||
various places in the town of Wilson. He opened two accounts at the
|
||
bank - one checking and one savings - before moving on to the realtor,
|
||
where he made arrangements to see a large house for sale in town. He
|
||
appeared in the city offices, inquiring about utilities; in the grocery
|
||
store, where he made small purchases such as a man staying in a motel
|
||
might make - although Maxine at the desk said no Jared Carver was
|
||
registered and no one matching his description had a room there; and
|
||
the hardware store, where he investigated, but did not buy, a selection
|
||
of strong door locks. In each place where he appeared he had the
|
||
unmistakable effect of dampening the usual small town friendliness; no
|
||
one greeted him with "Howdy" more than once, and while he was never
|
||
impolite, he most emphatically did not invite casual conversation.
|
||
As the day wore on Carver became the town mystery. He was not
|
||
staying at the motel, and was never seen to enter or leave a vehicle.
|
||
His clothing was of the highest quality and could not have been
|
||
purchased anywhere short of the state capital or some other large city,
|
||
yet it never seemed to suffer the dusty effects of walking in a town
|
||
that was liberally spattered with the side effects of trailers loaded
|
||
with cattle, hogs, horses, or grain. Where he was staying or how he
|
||
intended to get there was completely unknown, as was why he was in town
|
||
or why he seemed intent on moving in. The townspeople were completely
|
||
baffled by his cold rebuffs of their friendliness; he was not rude, as
|
||
they expected city dwellers to be, but the very precision of his
|
||
politeness was a barrier. He was frigid in responding to inquiries,
|
||
and few pursued matters further than the first calm repulsion.
|
||
That night outbursts of barking broke out through the night. The
|
||
dogs in a particular section of town would erupt, without warning, into
|
||
simultaneous fury, and the patch of barking would travel slowly along
|
||
until, with equal suddenness, it would cease as if cut off with an ax.
|
||
For a time all would be quiet, then the same strange phenomenon would
|
||
spring up in another neighborhood. By daylight the dogs of Wilson were
|
||
exhausted, and many of the human citizens were fed up with the "dang
|
||
mutts."
|
||
In the morning, the news went around town that Harvey Clapp, east
|
||
of town, had discovered one of his Angus steers down in the pasture,
|
||
with a small, precise gash in its neck. The veterinarian diagnosed a
|
||
massive loss of blood, and quickly loaded the animal up to recuperate
|
||
at his clinic, but could come up with no reason why the blood could be
|
||
gone, or how it could have been lost through the small wound on the
|
||
neck, or where it could have gone, since the ground in the pasture was
|
||
free of the large splotch of blood that the magnitude of the loss
|
||
suggested.
|
||
* * *
|
||
Jared Carver did not appear in town for a couple of days. When he
|
||
did, it was at the realtor's office, where he seemingly materialized
|
||
out of a cold thin drizzle. Draped over his shoulders, protecting his
|
||
suit and its inevitable carnation, white this time, from the rain, was
|
||
a rain cloak that must have cost much more than the usual plasticized
|
||
poncho. Dark in color, it complemented his suit without matching it
|
||
exactly.
|
||
The realtor, having been previously warned that Carver would not
|
||
make an appointment, but would merely present himself in the office
|
||
when he was ready to see the house, was prepared. For any other client
|
||
she would have refused such a peremptory and unusual request, but with
|
||
Carver it was not a request but an inexorable fact. She had not found
|
||
it possible to object.
|
||
The house was on a hill in an older part of Wilson, with other
|
||
houses around but separated from them by its own ten-acre plot of
|
||
ground. The house had once been magnificent, an example of money and
|
||
taste, but over the years weather and neglect had worn the paint mostly
|
||
off and turned the boards a dingy gray. The wood shone dimly in the
|
||
light, thin trickles of water running down.
|
||
The doors were strongly hung, and the locks turned easily enough.
|
||
The house had apparently been inhabited, though not with much money,
|
||
until fairly recently, for while the marks of poverty and neglect were
|
||
apparent there was none of the random destruction wrought by decay in
|
||
an empty building.
|
||
The realtor led Carver through the rooms - a large kitchen, living
|
||
room, two bedrooms, and what the realtor called a den on the first
|
||
floor, and upstairs two more bedrooms, a study, and what at one time
|
||
had obviously been a library. Now the shelves were in disrepair, but
|
||
they had once been strongly built and could have held thousands of
|
||
volumes. Each floor had a bathroom, carved out of the existing space
|
||
some time after the house was built. Electricity and gas were
|
||
installed, as was telephone wiring. Most incongruous was a cable
|
||
television outlet in the living room, its shiny black skin and gleaming
|
||
plug a strange contrast to the evident age of the walls and floor.
|
||
Back in the realtor's office, Carver declared that he wanted the
|
||
house. The woman began to discuss terms.
|
||
"No." Carver's one word startled the realtor into silence, and he
|
||
continued. "I do not wish to clutter this transaction with mortgages,
|
||
interest rates, payments, and other impediments. I will pay for the
|
||
house outright. I have in my pocket a check, which merely needs to be
|
||
made out for the full amount. It is on an account in a bank in New
|
||
York," here he withdrew the check and laid it on the desk, "which as
|
||
you will recognize is highly reputable. If you wish you may verify
|
||
that sufficient funds are on deposit to cover the check."
|
||
The realtor was stunned. Not even the wealthy ranchers in the
|
||
area - some of whom were worth a million dollars or perhaps even more -
|
||
paid for houses in one fell swoop. She stuttered. "Mr. C-carver, I'll
|
||
t-t-trust you to c-cover the ch-ch-check." Stopping for a deep breath,
|
||
she got her voice under control. "I am not accustomed to working in
|
||
this fashion, but I am sure we can arrange the deal to do it this
|
||
time."
|
||
Carver laid his long, white, cruel fingers on the check. "You
|
||
will take the check, after I have made it out, or I will buy another
|
||
house from someone else. There is nothing to arrange. There is
|
||
nothing to discuss. There is nothing to work out. The check is here,
|
||
and you will either accept it for the full amount of the purchase
|
||
price, or you will not. I would prefer the former, but in case of the
|
||
latter I am fully prepared to take my business elsewhere."
|
||
She took the check. It was not possible to protest further in the
|
||
presence of those eyes, with their tinge of red lurking in the black
|
||
depths.
|
||
* * *
|
||
Jared Carver had been in Wilson for two months. The night was
|
||
clear and chill, with the stars, once one got away from the lights of
|
||
the town, standing out sharp and bright. A farm house two miles
|
||
outside of town rested on a low hill, fields and barns surrounding it
|
||
in a ring of familiarity. A patch of fog crept over the landscape,
|
||
moving directly toward the house, although no wind blew. It settled
|
||
over the little hill, blanking out the house and its few shining
|
||
lights. After a moment of resting on the hill, the fog began to draw
|
||
together, concentrating in the area directly in front of the door. In
|
||
this yard, the fog compacted down until, with a last whirling,
|
||
soundless rush, it disappeared.
|
||
In the yard stood a creature resembling a large dog. But no dog
|
||
ever stood this rangy and menacing, with red eyes and lolling tongue
|
||
and white fangs dripping saliva. Padding silently across the yard, the
|
||
creature lowered its head and squeezed through the dog door fixed in
|
||
the front door of the farm house. Within, there was a scream,
|
||
following by the sounds of a struggle. Low growls mixed with the
|
||
crashing and thumping. The struggle ceased, and was replaced by the
|
||
unmistakable noise of a lapping tongue.
|
||
* * *
|
||
The next morning the city police and the county sheriff were
|
||
called to the Johnson place. It seemed that some great beast had
|
||
entered the house, by means as yet unknown although the dog door was
|
||
suspected, and ripped out the throats of the elderly farming couple.
|
||
While blood was splashed about somewhat from the obvious struggle,
|
||
there was none in the bodies, and surprisingly little in the living
|
||
room where the deaths had occurred.
|
||
By noon the news was being spoken of wherever people gathered in
|
||
Wilson. The Agnes Cafe at lunchtime was abuzz with speculation and
|
||
rumor. One fact was known - the prints of an enormous dog-like
|
||
creature had been found in the yard, leading toward the house. These
|
||
tracks had just appeared, as if the beast had been dropped out of thin
|
||
air, and none led away from the house.
|
||
In the Agnes Cafe Sherry was talking steadily as she passed from
|
||
table to table, handing out opinions and taking orders with the same
|
||
facility. She was stopped in her tracks by the opening of the door.
|
||
Eyes turned, and saw Jared Carver enter. Handling the balky door with
|
||
exquisite care, he closed it and took a seat at the end of the counter.
|
||
The man to his left put down his fork, paid his bill, and left
|
||
hurriedly.
|
||
Sherry, swinging back into action with obvious reluctance, crossed
|
||
to the counter and asked, "What'll ya have, Mr. Carver?"
|
||
"A bacon cheeseburger, rare, with lettuce, tomato, onion, and
|
||
mustard. No ketchup or mayonnaise. An order of tater tots on the
|
||
side. Hot tea."
|
||
Sherry wrote, slapped the order on the window sill for the cook,
|
||
and scanned the room. While Carver was ordering several people had
|
||
left, and now no one required her services. She was, perforce, stuck
|
||
with the pale stranger in his funereal suit. Attempting to make
|
||
conversation, she asked, "Have you heard what happened last night?"
|
||
"I have. An interesting crime, is it not?"
|
||
"Interestin' is one word for it. What could have done it?"
|
||
"I would suggest a wolf."
|
||
"A wolf?" Sherry asked with a near-laugh. "They ain't no wolves
|
||
around here. Haven't been for nearly 100 years."
|
||
"Perhaps one has entered the country. The animal's prints, as
|
||
described to me, are those of a wolf. The ripping out of the throats
|
||
could have been done only by some large beast such as a wolf."
|
||
A customer seated behind Carver spoke up. "Hey mister, didn't I
|
||
read the other day that wolves don't attack people?"
|
||
"That has been said," replied Carver without turning. "Perhaps in
|
||
most cases it is true. In this case, a wolf appears to be the most
|
||
likely suspect."
|
||
The bell rang, and Sherry took the plate from the window and
|
||
clacked it down in front of Carver. "Eat up, Mr. Carver. I got work
|
||
to do." Moving off, she began wiping already clean tables with a rag.
|
||
Carver lifted his burger and took a bite. The elongated teeth
|
||
gleamed briefly, and then sliced into the bun and meat. When the bite
|
||
was sheared off, two marks could be seen in the edge, where the canines
|
||
had bitten in.
|
||
* * *
|
||
A man entered the Agnes Cafe. He wore a dark suit and sunglasses,
|
||
and was careful to take a seat where his back was to a wall and he
|
||
could see out over most of the street in front of the building. He did
|
||
not remove the sunglasses, keeping them on as he surveyed the customers
|
||
and the street outside. Sherry, walking over to take his order, was
|
||
disconcerted by the blank scrutiny the stranger turned upon her.
|
||
"What can I get you, mister?"
|
||
"Just coffee. And then I'd like to talk with you for a few
|
||
minutes."
|
||
"Yeah, sure." It was a slow time of day, and so when the coffee
|
||
arrived in Sherry's hand she sat down across the table from the man in
|
||
the sunglasses.
|
||
He reached into his coat and produced a well-worn wallet.
|
||
Flipping it open, he displayed a badge and an identification card.
|
||
"Agent Corrigan, FBI. You may inspect the credentials if you like."
|
||
Sherry did so. "Gee, I've never met an FBI agent before. What do
|
||
you want?"
|
||
"Just information, at this point. You're aware of the killings in
|
||
the Wilson area?"
|
||
"Sure I am." Sherry shuddered. "First the cow, then the
|
||
Johnsons, then two more families and about 20 head of stock. It's
|
||
weird, is what it is."
|
||
"It's more than that." The agent replaced his credentials, and
|
||
glanced through his sunglasses at the street. "I'm sure you understand
|
||
the FBI doesn't investigate local matters unless we think there's just
|
||
cause. We have an entire team in the area now, working with the local
|
||
law enforcement people. We think there is more to these killings than
|
||
just random violence or cultic activity. There is some sort of
|
||
pattern, we believe, if we can just find it."
|
||
"And?" prompted the waitress, leaning on her elbows.
|
||
"We're talking with people in town who have occasion to notice
|
||
what's going on. Waitresses, gas station attendants, employees of the
|
||
feed store, the real estate agent, and others who notice goings and
|
||
comings. Are there any suspicious people you've noticed either coming
|
||
to Wilson or hanging around the area in the past six months?"
|
||
"No," replied Sherry, frowning under her frizzy blond curls.
|
||
"There's one guy who's real weird, a total cold fish, but he ain't
|
||
suspicious or anything."
|
||
"Who is this man?"
|
||
"His name's Jared Carver. He always wears this mortician's suit,
|
||
y'know, and he looks like death warmed over, only his eyes are real
|
||
alive. He's as strong as an ox, and he just gives me the creeps. And
|
||
everybody else just can't stand him, y'know. It's like he just ain't
|
||
quite normal. Not that he's a nut or anything - he just ain't
|
||
friendly, a cold fish, y'know."
|
||
Corrigan was taking notes, apparently in shorthand, for he set
|
||
down very few strokes for all that Sherry said. He looked up as she
|
||
finished, and asked, "And where can I find Mr. Carver?"
|
||
"Well, he sometimes comes in here - maybe once or twice a week. I
|
||
never know what time of day. One time it'll be breakfast, and the next
|
||
supper, and the next halfway between lunch and supper, and then
|
||
breakfast or lunch. Let's see, he hangs around the bank some - he's
|
||
got some kind of eastern financial connections or something. Maggie at
|
||
the real estate office said he bought his house with a single $75,000
|
||
check on this big New York bank - I don't remember which one. He lives
|
||
up on the hill on Snob Hill, up where all the rich folks built back
|
||
when the oil was going. It's off back of the east side of town, I
|
||
don't know the address."
|
||
"I'm sure I can find it. How would you describe Mr. Carver?"
|
||
"Well, like I said, he always dresses like an undertaker. Always
|
||
got this black suit on - no pinstripes - and a flower in his button
|
||
hole. Sometimes the flower's red, sometimes it's white - always real
|
||
fresh. He's got this big long nose, like the aristocracy have, I
|
||
guess, and he's pale. Looks he just crawled out of a coffin, if you've
|
||
ever seen someone who's been laid out for burying. He's got this black
|
||
hair, slicked back real smooth. It just slightly brushes his ears,
|
||
y'know, and they're sort of pointed on top."
|
||
Corrigan closed his notebook and slipped it into a pocket. "Thank
|
||
you, miss. Either I or another agent will contact you if we need
|
||
further information." Corrigan drank off his coffee as Sherry went to
|
||
take care of her customers, and rose. Still with his sunglasses firmly
|
||
in place, he passed through the door.
|
||
* * *
|
||
Carver first met Corrigan in the Agnes Cafe. The FBI agent, after
|
||
a week of talking to townspeople and conferring with the rest of his
|
||
team - who no one had spotted - was still incapable of producing any
|
||
solid evidence in the various killings. Indeed, during his stay in
|
||
town, on a night in which patches of fog rushed through town on unfelt
|
||
winds, two dogs had been killed and drained of blood right in Wilson.
|
||
That night no one had slept, for all the dogs had raved furiously
|
||
through the night, ceasing only when dawn drove the fog away.
|
||
Corrigan was sitting at the counter, sipping coffee, toying with
|
||
his scrambled eggs, and reviewing notes, when the door opened and a man
|
||
sat down next to him. Before he even looked up a look of revulsion
|
||
distorted the agent's face, and he shoved his plate away with violent
|
||
disgust. When he did look up, Corrigan's face froze, for sitting
|
||
beside him at the counter was the mysterious Mr. Carver of whom he had
|
||
heard so much.
|
||
Carver was studying the menu as if Corrigan did not exist. The
|
||
agent took the opportunity, in spite of the irrational and instinctive
|
||
distaste he felt, to study Carver. The aquiline nose, the black hair
|
||
combed straight back, the unnatural pallor, the long cruel fingers -
|
||
all was had been described to him.
|
||
Sherry walked over reluctantly, her pen poised. Replacing the
|
||
menu in its rack, Carver spoke in a voice so low and icy that Corrigan
|
||
shivered. "I'll have a ham and cheese omelet, hot tea, two orders of
|
||
hash browns, and four links of sausage." The waitress scribbled as he
|
||
gave his order, turned and slapped the paper on the window sill, and
|
||
walked away silently. She had ignored Corrigan.
|
||
Corrigan reached for his cup, taking a large swig of the strong
|
||
brew. Carver's hand lay flat on the counter beside it, and the FBI man
|
||
by an act of will ignored the pale appendage. As he replaced the cup -
|
||
further away from the hand - Carver spoke again.
|
||
"You're new in town, aren't' you?"
|
||
That deadly voice again sent a shudder through Corrigan, though he
|
||
concealed it.
|
||
"Yes."
|
||
"Here on business?"
|
||
"Yes. Government business. I'm helping investigate the string of
|
||
killings that have occurred here."
|
||
"I see." Carver's hands folded, and Corrigan caught a glimpse of
|
||
the hairs growing from the palms. "Does Washington take such interest
|
||
in all livestock deaths and serial killers?"
|
||
"Washington takes an interest in everything that it needs to take
|
||
notice of. We believe that there is more to this than random
|
||
violence."
|
||
"Indeed." Carver's hot tea arrived, and he busied himself with
|
||
the bag. "And what is Washington's theory?"
|
||
Sherry was staring open-mouthed in back of the counter. She had
|
||
never heard Carver speak this many words or initiate a conversation.
|
||
Corrigan noted her surprise as he replied, "We believe it's some sort
|
||
of drug-related enterprise, perhaps gone overboard and out of control,
|
||
or killing around here to mask something else."
|
||
"I don't wish to intrude on government business, of course,"
|
||
Carver said quietly, "and of course there are things you cannot tell me
|
||
by the very nature of things. But do you have any leads?"
|
||
"None at all. That I can tell you. We're working with the local
|
||
law enforcement agencies on this case, but so far we have nothing but
|
||
human bodies and the carcasses of farm animals. But we'll find whoever
|
||
is behind this, and he'll do hard time."
|
||
"Ah." Carver removed the bag from his tea and took an unsweetened
|
||
sip. "Let me advise you, Mr. Corrigan. I am a man of the world and I
|
||
have seen many things in my life. Do not be surprised if your
|
||
investigation turns up nothing. Some things that occur are beyond the
|
||
capability of crime labs and modern police methods to unravel. This
|
||
may be one of them."
|
||
"We'll see," declared the agent, draining his coffee. "Good day,
|
||
Mr. Carver." It wasn't until he was half a block away that he realized
|
||
that while he knew Carver's name from his questions, he had never been
|
||
introduced, and the strange resident of Wilson could hardly have known
|
||
who Corrigan was.
|
||
* * *
|
||
Two weeks passed in Wilson, and Corrigan grew frustrated. The
|
||
killings continued - two more incidents of dogs being killed in the
|
||
night, three head of cattle at three different locations, and one more
|
||
person. This was a drifter who happened to be sleeping in a pasture
|
||
just outside town. In all of the cases the blood was drained from the
|
||
victims, with no clue left as to where it might have gone. The dogs
|
||
appeared to have been killed quickly and with great ferocity,
|
||
apparently by the animal Carver had suggested was a wolf. The cattle
|
||
all followed the pattern of the first cow, except that where that
|
||
animal had recovered, these all died of the loss of blood. The drifter
|
||
was found lying on his back, a strange stupefied expression on his
|
||
face, with the small, precise gash in his neck the only way the blood
|
||
could possibly have been removed from his body.
|
||
Carver continued to appear irregularly around town. He paid his
|
||
bills scrupulously on time, although they were much lower than one
|
||
would have expected in his large house on the hill. He ate
|
||
occasionally at the Agnes Cafe, always requesting that his meat be
|
||
cooked rare and always ending his meal alone, even if when he first sat
|
||
down he was surrounded by paying customers.
|
||
It was during one of these meals that Corrigan stomped into the
|
||
Cafe, his foul mood evident in the way he flung himself onto a stool
|
||
next to Carver and his sunglasses onto the counter. Sherry was quick
|
||
to place a steaming cup before him, and as he sugared his coffee
|
||
Corrigan observed Carver out of the corner of his eye. The immaculate
|
||
resident champed through his food at a great rate, cutting a steak with
|
||
precise motions that sheared through meat and gristle alike with an
|
||
ease that bespoke enormous strength. The juice ran red, and the
|
||
pointed teeth in Carver's mouth appeared to relish each bloody bite.
|
||
Carver noticed the FBI agent's gaze. "Is there something you
|
||
want, Mr. Corrigan?" he asked in his chill voice.
|
||
"I would like to talk to you about these killings."
|
||
"I assure you, Mr. Corrigan, that if I had information to give the
|
||
officers of the law, I would have done so already."
|
||
"Is that so." It was phrased as a question, but Corrigan gave it
|
||
the flat inflection of a statement.
|
||
"Indeed it is so. Do you doubt my word?"
|
||
Corrigan took a sip of coffee, noting that today the flower in the
|
||
buttonhole was a particularly brilliant red. "I merely regard you as a
|
||
suspect in this case."
|
||
Carver laid down his fork and knife - Corrigan noted that the man
|
||
was left-handed. "On what grounds do you make such a determination?"
|
||
"Oh, I have no hard evidence at present." The agent had now
|
||
swiveled on his stool so that he leaned with his right elbow on the
|
||
counter, facing the thin pale man. "But you are the only one in town
|
||
whose movements are not well known to the community. You are the only
|
||
member of the community who is apart from the life of the town. Of all
|
||
the people in Wilson, you're the only one who could be a suspect."
|
||
"I presume you know, Mr. Corrigan, that murderers do not often
|
||
look like murders. Perhaps the true culprit is one of the innocent
|
||
farmers in the area. Perhaps it is Sherry. Perhaps it is even you,
|
||
Mr. Corrigan."
|
||
Corrigan shuddered as this last sentence was delivered with a
|
||
small cold smile. The pointed teeth showed plainly at this close
|
||
distance, extending well below the level of the other upper teeth. The
|
||
FBI agent restrained his revulsion with difficulty. "What I know is
|
||
what I know. I want you to know this. You are a suspect. We're
|
||
watching you, Mr. Carver, and if you're the killer we'll catch you.
|
||
You need not have any doubts about that."
|
||
Carver's smile was now frozen. "Mr. Corrigan, I do not intend to
|
||
be threatened. You may either leave, or move to another subject." The
|
||
thin hands picked up the silverware again, only to be stopped by
|
||
Corrigan's voice.
|
||
"Carver, I'm going to get you. I don't care how long it takes,
|
||
but your butt is mine."
|
||
Carver said nothing, his eyes on his plate. Slowly, his hands
|
||
contracted, bending the thick steel restaurant cutlery into U-shaped
|
||
hunks of metal. Finally he raised his eyes to Corrigan's, their black
|
||
depths flickering with a dangerous red fire. "Do not threaten me
|
||
again, Mr. Corrigan. I do not like threats, and I tend to react
|
||
violently against them." Rising from his seat, Carver reached into his
|
||
coat pocket, withdrew the wallet, and taking two $20 bills from it
|
||
tossed them on the counter. "Good day, Mr. Corrigan." Carver turned
|
||
and stalked out the door.
|
||
* * *
|
||
That night, four FBI agents in plain clothes staked out Jared
|
||
Carver's house. Their instructions were clear - they were to watch the
|
||
house, and if Carver emerged they were to follow him, without being
|
||
seen, wherever he went. If Carver even appeared to perform an illegal
|
||
act, he was to be arrested. If he so much as littered, Corrigan had
|
||
instructed, the man was to be bent over the nearest hard object and
|
||
cuffed.
|
||
As the night wore on, the lights in the house went off. Finally,
|
||
just short of midnight, the last one, in what appeared from without to
|
||
be the living room, went dark, and the men prepared for a long vigil.
|
||
But shortly a fog came creeping over the ground. Although the man in
|
||
front of the house couldn't believe he was seeing clearly, the fog
|
||
appeared to issue from the house itself. He reported the development
|
||
on his radio, and the phenomenon was sufficiently curious that one of
|
||
the other agents came around to look for himself.
|
||
The fog gathered on the gentle slope leading from the porch to the
|
||
street, and then flowed downhill. As it reached the sidewalk it
|
||
stopped, and began to draw together. The two FBI agents watched,
|
||
mesmerized. The fog began to sparkle as it coalesced. A spinning
|
||
motion began, and shortly the two men saw what resembled a spinning
|
||
mass of dust motes, sparkling in the moonlight. And suddenly the dust
|
||
was gone, replaced by Carver, standing before them in his black suit,
|
||
the dark cape hung over his shoulders.
|
||
Carver approached the two agents. They did not move, their glassy
|
||
eyes betraying their disassociation from reality. Carver smiled his
|
||
cold smile, the red flickering strongly in his eyes. "Well, what have
|
||
we here? Two men, instead of one! I shall indeed enjoy this night!"
|
||
The men shivered, thought the night was warm. Carver stepped
|
||
closer, until his breath stirred the hair of one of the agents. "Do
|
||
you fear me?" he asked in a voice as hard as iron. "Do you understand
|
||
what you are facing? Do you realize that I have powers beyond your
|
||
understanding, age beyond your power to imagine?"
|
||
The two men shivered more strongly now, and sweat poured from
|
||
their faces. Yet they stood stock still, nailed to the spot. Carver
|
||
placed his hand gently on the forehead of one of the men, a short,
|
||
dark-haired man. Pushing the man's head back, Carver bent his head
|
||
down and, with a quick movement, snapped his teeth together in the
|
||
man's neck. A jerk ran through the frozen form, and Carver fastened
|
||
his mouth over the incision he had created. Sucking eagerly, he
|
||
reached back with a hand and supported the form as it weakened.
|
||
Finally, he raised his head, withdrew his hand, and watched calmly as
|
||
the former FBI agent slumped to the ground. Carver's mouth was smeared
|
||
with blood.
|
||
Carver turned to the other agent, who during the entire episode
|
||
had continued to stare with wide eyes at the house from which the fog
|
||
had come. "Now it's your turn. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do."
|
||
In the morning the two agents were discovered. Corrigan was
|
||
livid, and Carver ate a hearty breakfast at the Agnes Cafe.
|
||
* * *
|
||
The stakeout continued with redoubled zeal. It was one thing for
|
||
Corrigan to be frustrated by apparently random killings of animals and
|
||
people across the countryside. It was an entirely different thing for
|
||
two of his men to be murdered on duty, by the very villain they were
|
||
there to watch for - obviously without a struggle, even though no one
|
||
could explain how two strong, trained men could have their necks opened
|
||
and their blood drained and not resist violently. Added to the normal
|
||
reaction of a law enforcement officer to a "cop killing" was Corrigan's
|
||
monumental rage at the brazen slap in his face. The two killings were
|
||
obviously designed to mock his efforts, and Corrigan was not amused.
|
||
The killings, by being perpetrated right in front of Carver's
|
||
house, focused Corrigan's suspicions more than ever. He pulled almost
|
||
all his agents and cooperating local peace officers in from their
|
||
scattered locations, and threw a cordon around Carver's house. In
|
||
addition to the standing order to spot and hold Carver if he exited the
|
||
house, Corrigan added two commands which puzzled his subordinates - any
|
||
animal resembling a wolf was to be shot on sight, and fog was to be
|
||
reported instantly. Although Corrigan had not witnessed the fog that
|
||
coalesced into the menacing, cold form of Jared Carver, he had finally
|
||
realized that the killings in town had always occurred on nights of
|
||
patchy fog that drifted, apparently at random, even when the wind did
|
||
not blow.
|
||
For a week the intensified stakeout proved fruitless. No killings
|
||
occurred, Carver did not emerge, no fog appeared, and wolves were in
|
||
short supply. Corrigan, baffled and enraged, released half of his men
|
||
to their previous duties. The remaining agents and police officers -
|
||
eight in all, continued to nightly watch the house on the hill, with
|
||
Corrigan fuming in his car and keeping in touch by radio.
|
||
On the eighth night, the tense silence was broken by the laconic
|
||
voice of an FBI agent. "Corrigan, I've got a patch of fog drifting
|
||
down the hill toward position 2."
|
||
Corrigan grabbed the microphone with his right hand, transferred
|
||
it to his left, and jerked the ignition key with the now-free right
|
||
hand. "Roger." Slamming the car into gear and steering with the
|
||
already-occupied left hand, Corrigan reached down and switched
|
||
frequencies. "Everyone, converge on position two - right in front of
|
||
the main door."
|
||
Roaring through the silent streets, and squealing around a corner,
|
||
Corrigan jerked the car to a stop and piled out. He saw the cause of
|
||
the agent's report - a small patch of fog that appeared to boil as it
|
||
moved slowly, menacingly, down the hill toward the street. Walking up
|
||
to the agent on duty, he ordered, "Report."
|
||
"That fog seemed to just form on the front porch, sir. I don't
|
||
know how - maybe my eyes just fooled me, although the moon's shining
|
||
directly onto the front of the house. Then it started moving down this
|
||
way. As you can tell, sir, there's a slight breeze uphill - how the
|
||
fog's coming this way I haven't the slightest idea."
|
||
"Very well." Corrigan thought a moment. "Stay here and keep an
|
||
eye on that fog. I'm going to try to get a side view."
|
||
Corrigan moved off across the street and back down to the left,
|
||
from where he'd come. As he moved away, another car pulled up, and two
|
||
local police officers climbed out, watching the fog. More familiar
|
||
with local weather, they were more baffled than the FBI agent, who was
|
||
confused enough on his own.
|
||
Corrigan reached the corner and began to walk up the hill. The
|
||
property was not fenced, and as he slipped up the dew-wet grass he kept
|
||
his eyes on the fog, which was now to his right. As he watched, the
|
||
patch of vapor drew together, increasing in height, and sped down the
|
||
hill toward the officers on the opposite sidewalk. Paralyzed with
|
||
astonishment, Corrigan froze on place, his tongue unable to move.
|
||
The fog halted its strange progress directly in front of the three
|
||
officers. Whirling rapidly, it became less a fog and more a column of
|
||
swirling glitter, as if dust were dancing in the moonlight. It swirled
|
||
faster, taking on an apparently solid shape. Suddenly, the glitter was
|
||
gone and the tall form of Jared Carver stood before the officers, who
|
||
stood as if petrified.
|
||
Corrigan's tongue, motivated by rage and fear, found its mobility
|
||
again. "Hey, you!" he shouted, as he began to run as best as he could
|
||
down the slick grass of the hill. "Get away from my men!"
|
||
Carver whirled. His face gleamed a dead bone white in the
|
||
moonlight, and his eyes gleamed with a crimson fire straight out of
|
||
hell. The fanged mouth contorted in a feral snarl, and even as he
|
||
slipped and almost fell on the wet grass Corrigan could hear the hiss,
|
||
as of twenty snakes in a rage.
|
||
Corrigan halted, not 20 yards from Carver. The strange resident
|
||
of Wilson stood, his hands curved into claws, the eyes blazing with
|
||
unholy fire, the long canine fangs bared. The FBI man drew his gun,
|
||
totally unsure of the effect of lead on someone who could move as fog
|
||
in the night. Hoping to avoid a test of the matter, he spoke. "What
|
||
are you doing, Carver?"
|
||
The cold arrogance of the man was intensified, backed up by a
|
||
baffled and terrible rage. "It does not concern you what I am doing.
|
||
I rule myself - no law and no man does so. I suggest that you take
|
||
yourself far from here, for this place is inhospitable and will not
|
||
suffer you long to live."
|
||
"Is that so?" Corrigan was not nearly as certain of his position
|
||
as he hoped his voice made it seem he was. "I am hereby placing you
|
||
under arrest for murder. You have the right to--"
|
||
Carver hissed like a steam engine, the snarl fiercer than ever.
|
||
"*You* are arresting *me*? Do you know who and what I am? You cannot
|
||
hold me. You cannot take me. You can do nothing to me. Now *leave*,
|
||
or die!"
|
||
Corrigan had faced armed madmen, worked on bomb disposal squads,
|
||
and provided security in highly dangerous environments. His bavery was
|
||
not in question - he knew that he possessed physical courage. But this
|
||
evil creature was more than he could handle. He knew that his gun and
|
||
his training would be of absolutely no use against Carver, the man who
|
||
bent steel cutlery without effort in his hands and moved across the
|
||
land in ways mortals could only guess at. Holstering his pistol,
|
||
Corrigan did the hardest thing he'd ever done - he turned and walked
|
||
away, knowing that three men were being left behind to be drained of
|
||
their blood.
|
||
* * *
|
||
The next day, armed with a wooden stake, a mallet, several cloves
|
||
of garlic, an ax, a can of kerosene, and a book of matches, Corrigan
|
||
walked slowly up the hill to the front door of Carver's house. He did
|
||
not put any stock in the supernatural, but he knew of no other way to
|
||
attack the creature who had left three corpses in the street, bled dry
|
||
to feed its hunger. He knew that bullets would not work, and he was
|
||
forced to fall back on superstition and tradition in fighting the evil
|
||
that had come to Wilson.
|
||
Corrigan knocked on the door, and received no answer. He didn't
|
||
know whether he'd expected one or not - vampires were reputed to be
|
||
unable to move in daylight, yet Carver had repeatedly shown himself in
|
||
Wilson during the day. He knocked again, and a third time. When there
|
||
was still no answer, he tried the door. The knob turned easily, and
|
||
Corrigan walked in.
|
||
The living room was sparsely furnished - a sofa along one wall, a
|
||
few armchairs scattered around, a bookcase along one wall that
|
||
apparently had never been used. Passing carefully through the living
|
||
room, Corrigan found the kitchen, which was coated with dust and
|
||
apparently had not been used since Carver took possession of the house.
|
||
Looking around, Corrigan investigated all the rooms on the first floor,
|
||
finding that only the living room and the bathroom showed signs of use.
|
||
With increasing trepidation, the agent ascended the stairs. He
|
||
found one bedroom had been used, and the closet showed signs that it
|
||
had been emptied within the last few hours. The bathroom had clearly
|
||
been used, and no other rooms upstairs.
|
||
Returning to the first floor, Corrigan looked around for a
|
||
basement door. Finally, tucked into a corner of the kitchen, he found
|
||
it. It was locked, and the lock was so rusted that it could not
|
||
possibly have been opened in years.
|
||
Later in the day Corrigan and several agents, along with all the
|
||
remaining officers of the Wilson police department, returned with a
|
||
search warrant. All the rooms were carefully searched, and the
|
||
basement broken into. All they found were rats and roaches and signs
|
||
of slight recent occupation. Carver was gone, leaving behind no clue
|
||
as to where he would go next.
|
||
* * *
|
||
Two years later, working on a case in Massachusetts, Corrigan
|
||
discovered a stone in an old graveyard. On it he read the name - Jared
|
||
Carver, the dates - 1676 to 1711, and the epitaph - "He Comes on
|
||
Ancient Winds." Corrigan decided not to have the grave exhumed to see
|
||
if there were any bones in what remained of the coffin.
|
||
|
||
Enokrad's Tail
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, L. Shawn Aiken
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Enokrad's Tail
|
||
by L. Shawn Aiken
|
||
|
||
|
||
Suraci stumbled into his dark loft above the alchemist's shop, a
|
||
charred scroll case clenched tightly in his fist. The fire still burned
|
||
in his mind's eye, along with the angry faces of the mob. His lungs heaved
|
||
as he pushed the heavy oak door closed and pulled the iron bolt to.
|
||
At last I'm safe, he thought, clutching the scroll case tightly to
|
||
his chest. He leaned against the door and waited for his eyes to adjust to
|
||
the darkness.
|
||
The duel had lasted three days long. Suraci had watched from his
|
||
loft as the two wizards had battled high above the city. Protocol had been
|
||
broken in endangering so many of the people of Alitos like that, but
|
||
wizards of great power need not worry about lesser beings. Near the duel's
|
||
end the young mage had seen his chance and acted.
|
||
Suraci could make out the faint outlines of his desk and bookshelf
|
||
near the window. He started towards it. Pain suddenly shot through his
|
||
shin as he ran into a chair.
|
||
"Damn," he muttered under his breath and kicked the chair out of his
|
||
way. He moved forward with his arm outstretched, carefully feeling for the
|
||
desk.
|
||
The young mage got to the desk and felt for his lamp. Its smooth,
|
||
bronze casting felt cool to his hand. He waved his fingers over it and
|
||
several archaic words flowed down his tongue and over his lips.
|
||
The wick ignited, casting its golden light over his soot covered face
|
||
Suraci sat the leather scroll case on his desk and looked at it. Half of
|
||
the brown tube was blackened, ending where the cap had been before it had
|
||
burned off in the inferno.
|
||
Bits of charred, blackened leather crumbled from it as he carefully
|
||
rolled the case over. On the other side, inscribed on an iron plate, were
|
||
the words "The Spell of Enokrad". Suraci smiled.
|
||
Long before Enokrad had challenged Drolerif for his seat on the
|
||
Mage's Guild Council, Suraci had been invited to visit the great sorcerer
|
||
at his estate on the other side of town. The young mage had at first been
|
||
flabbergasted by the offer, but then he realized the Enokrad could see his
|
||
great potential, where others had not.
|
||
While at the estate, Enokrad had shown him his basement vault full of
|
||
ancient and powerful scrolls. One of them the great sorcerer had written
|
||
himself, and Suraci held it now with his dirty fingers.
|
||
Just after midnight on the third day of the battle, a great bolt of
|
||
light arced across the sky. Bits of Enokrad's flaming body hurtled into
|
||
the Gaff River and a great cloud of steam billowed forth. It was over,
|
||
with the pompous Drolerif retaining his seat on the council.
|
||
Thoughts had swarmed around in Suraci's mind as he had watched the
|
||
human meteor fall from the sky. With Enokrad gone, intruder defenses at
|
||
his estate would be at a minimum and he could purloin the scroll.
|
||
Suraci had arrived just minutes before the mob had.
|
||
They were bent on cleansing Alitos of any reminders of the alleged
|
||
necromancer's vile presence. He had barely got through the door with
|
||
scroll in hand when they tried to set him and the house on fire. The young
|
||
mage had run for his life, eventually winding up back in his loft.
|
||
So what does the spell do? he wondered. It was no use to speculate.
|
||
Whatever it was, it must be powerful. After all, the sorcerer had named it
|
||
after himself.
|
||
Suraci grabbed the chair that he had kicked over and sat down at his
|
||
desk. He then carefully slid the scroll out from its case.
|
||
A gasp came from his throat as he saw that the edge of the rolled up
|
||
parchment was burnt. If any of the words on the manuscript had been
|
||
destroyed, the spell would be useless. Did he dare unroll it, only to find
|
||
that his efforts had been for naught? Yes, he grinned wolfishly, it is
|
||
indeed worth it.
|
||
Suraci slowly flattened the parchment out on his desk. Bits of the
|
||
left side cracked and crumbled into ash. He winced as each crack appeared.
|
||
With it opened, he scanned the document. It was damaged, but none of
|
||
the text had been harmed. The young mage could barely contain his
|
||
excitement, his hands shaking as he began to read it.
|
||
The script was in ancient Tuknarian, one of the first things a person
|
||
learns as a wizard's apprentice. That was about all Suraci's teacher had
|
||
taught him before the old man had met his demised. Suraci had desperately
|
||
needed wizard's blood for a potion and the old man had been the only
|
||
accessible source. The hieroglyphic script flowed across the page as he
|
||
hastily read the introductory paragraph.
|
||
"I, Enokrad, sorcerer without peer, pen this spell to secure my
|
||
long-lasting presence in the universe. This spell before you is indeed
|
||
powerful, and will grant the caster a great reward."
|
||
Suraci laughed. He could feel the power coursing from the words to
|
||
him. Never had he been exposed to such a spell, not even when he had
|
||
stolen his master's spell book and read it from front to back.
|
||
Power, true power, was in his grasp. He clenched his fists and shook
|
||
them. He would show those fools that had thrown him out of the Mage's
|
||
Guild, and avenge the only sorcerer that had ever been kind to him. Then
|
||
he would sit at the head of the council. The young mage laughed again.
|
||
He looked back at the scroll. The first step of the spell was next.
|
||
After wiping his sweaty hands on his thighs and adjusting his position in
|
||
his seat, Suraci began to read again, his dark eyes glowing with excitement.
|
||
"For proper casting of the spell, several items you will need.
|
||
Gather forth these things: a saucer of the finest porcelain, the silvery
|
||
dust of dried Therabin berries gathered at the height of the full moon, the
|
||
metal plate attached to the case containing this scroll, and the milk from
|
||
a cow not more than three years of age."
|
||
Is that it, he shook his head, only four components? It was hard to
|
||
believe something so powerful could be so simple.
|
||
He rummaged around his cluttered loft. In the cabinet he found a
|
||
good saucer. On his mystical spice rack was a bottle of the glittering
|
||
berry dust. Suraci had to sneak out to the tavern next door to steal a
|
||
bottle of milk left on the back porch.
|
||
When he came back he careful pried the metal plate off of the scroll
|
||
case. On the back were several peculiar inscriptions. It was obviously
|
||
vital to the spell, perhaps even the prime focus for the magical energies
|
||
to flow through. Suraci sat back down and read the next step.
|
||
"The location of the spell is vital,"
|
||
Uh-oh, the young mage thought. He had not imagined the possibility
|
||
that he might need to relocate to cat the spell.
|
||
"It must in an area near a large quantity of magical elixirs . . ."
|
||
Damn. Where could he find a great quantity of magical elixirs? Of
|
||
course! The alchemist's shop was right underneath him. Hundred of potions
|
||
and the like were just under his feet. No problem there.
|
||
" . . . and the area must have a window overlooking the city of
|
||
Alitos."
|
||
That was very specific. He looked out of his window at the roof tops
|
||
of Alitos and smiled. Suraci could think of no better place to cast the
|
||
spell than in his own loft.
|
||
"First, open the window and place the saucer on the window sill.
|
||
Then fill it with milk. Draw two circles on the floor with the berry dust,
|
||
making sure that there are no gaps. One circle must be one foot in radius,
|
||
the other three feet. Connect them with a line of half a foot. As you are
|
||
doing so, read out loud the Sequinian Chant of Calling."
|
||
Suraci gulped. This was a spell of summoning. But summoning what?
|
||
A demon form the deepest depths of darkness? This spell was indeed
|
||
dangerous. He frowned. But he power he would control would be
|
||
inconceivable. He smiled and rubbed his hands together.
|
||
With a yank, he removed the dusty rug of virgin's scalps out from in
|
||
front of the window. Suraci had paid a fortune for it. he threw it
|
||
hastily in the corner and opened the window.
|
||
The smoke from Enokrad's burning home hung over the darkened city.
|
||
It was a shame. What had been lost when Enokrad's house had went up in
|
||
flames? The people of the city were barbarians, but they would pay dearly.
|
||
He sat the saucer on the window and filled it with milk. What did
|
||
this part of the spell have to do with anything? Oh well, sometimes it was
|
||
best no to think about the structures of a spell. Apprentices had gone mad
|
||
doing so.
|
||
Suraci found the Sequinian chant in an old, dusty book entitled
|
||
"Summoning Safely: How to Call Them Before They Call You." He took the
|
||
vial of silvery dust and sprinkled it on the floor, reading the chant
|
||
slowly as he formed the mystical symbols.
|
||
With that done he started towards his desk to finish reading the
|
||
scroll, but something stopped him dead in his tracks. An unearthly
|
||
presence filled up the room. Suraci looked back at the circles. Nothing
|
||
was there. His gaze slowly shifted to the window.
|
||
Two glowing green eyes stared out at him from the darkness. His
|
||
heart began to pound in his ears. he tried to move but his body was
|
||
paralyzed with fear.
|
||
The two green eyes lowered to the saucer and a lapping sound could be
|
||
heard. What was it?
|
||
After it had finished with the milk, the creature jumped from the
|
||
window sill into the room and carefully sat down. Suraci relaxed. It was
|
||
a black cat with huge green eyes.
|
||
"Shoo!" he said to the cat, "You're messing up the spell!" The cat
|
||
slowly looked around the room. It sat up, stretched, and walked over to
|
||
the young mage. Then it sat down in front of him and stared coldly into
|
||
his eyes. A strange metal medallion hung from its neck.
|
||
Suraci bent down and looked at the ornament. It was square and made
|
||
of iron. Inscribed on it was "Dark One."
|
||
He gulped. This was Enokrad's familiar. The cat had been there that
|
||
day when Enokrad had shown him the scroll. What did this mean? He quickly
|
||
went over to the scroll and read the next line.
|
||
"Place the cat in the smaller circle,"
|
||
Suraci gulped and turned toward the cat. It walked over, sat in the
|
||
circle, and looked at him impatiently. He gulped again. What had he
|
||
gotten himself into? What kind of forces were at work here? He glanced
|
||
back at the scroll.
|
||
"With the iron plate in your left hand, step into the larger circle.
|
||
Chant the following phrase repeatedly and await your reward."
|
||
Suraci picked up the iron plate. It was cold in his hand. He
|
||
studied the incantation, knowing he must do it perfectly or the spell would
|
||
backfire. When he was confident about it, he walked over to the circle and
|
||
stepped in.
|
||
Tingling energy filled the air, along with a sense of wrongness.
|
||
What was wrong? Perhaps he should stop. He hesitated to start the
|
||
enchantment and wondered what power would be his.
|
||
"Meow," vocalized the cat sternly. He looked down at it a nodded.
|
||
The words crept out of his mouth like dusty pages from an archaic
|
||
volume. He coughed, but continued.
|
||
The tingling energy grew around his body. The words became easier
|
||
to say and soon flowed out of his mouth with no effort, in fact, it was
|
||
like someone else was saying them. He could feel the power coursing
|
||
through his body and smiled. Suddenly there was a flash of light and
|
||
his view shifted.
|
||
When his eyes came back into focus, Enokrad looked down at his
|
||
new body. It was young and healthy. His insurance policy had paid off.
|
||
The cat was meowing horribly. Enokrad poured a saucer of milk and
|
||
set it in front of the feline.
|
||
"Here is your reward," Enokrad smiled. The cat blinked several
|
||
times, then began to lap up the milk.
|
||
|
||
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ
|
||
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|
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|
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ÛÛ Û ÛÛÜÜÛÛ (717)325-9481 14.4
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ßÛ ßÛÛÛÛß 2 NODES
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ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÛ ÜÛ ÜÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÛÛÛÛÜ
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ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛÜ ÛÛ
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ßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛß ßÛÛÛÛÛß ßÛ ßÛ ßÛÛÛÛß ßÛ ßÛ ßÛ ßÛ ßÛÛÛÛß
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°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
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°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² Poetry ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
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°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
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°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
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°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
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ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Perspectives
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Thomas D. Van Hook
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Perspectives
|
||
by Thomas D. Van Hook
|
||
written 14 Dec 93 0528am
|
||
|
||
|
||
I remember, an age of innocence
|
||
A time of little cares and whims
|
||
Playing basketball and baseball
|
||
Throwing rocks on ponds to skim
|
||
|
||
I remember that what would follow
|
||
A time that chilled my marrow
|
||
Unexpressive and rebellious
|
||
My focus, was too narrow
|
||
|
||
Pent-up anger and frustration
|
||
Taken out on other's nerves
|
||
Plainly for sheer pleasure
|
||
Not knowing what cause I'd serve
|
||
|
||
Into the machine, I descended
|
||
Became a part of what I hated
|
||
Not sensing what I had become
|
||
My lust for pain...unsated
|
||
|
||
As I grew, I learned expression
|
||
To communicate my pain
|
||
How to work my anger out
|
||
With pen, paper and brain
|
||
|
||
Now I glance upon my past
|
||
To see what brought me here
|
||
My perspective has always been changing
|
||
Along with my hopes, dreams and fears
|
||
|
||
|
||
Irony
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Tamara
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
What would I do in days of old
|
||
the nights unfold
|
||
like misty magic memories
|
||
The interplay of human light
|
||
our souls take flight
|
||
til death surrenders all.
|
||
The spark within you shines again
|
||
I think back and remember when
|
||
you spilled your watercolors across the sky.
|
||
Throughout my deepest, darkest days
|
||
in wonderment, I stand amazed
|
||
tis you who keeps me from despair.
|
||
Where once I heard your blackened sighs
|
||
a glimpse of intimate sacrifice
|
||
Such irony is this!
|
||
With a rush of light and laughter
|
||
tis you I follow after
|
||
into this playground of the night.
|
||
|
||
Written 1/25/93 by Tamara (c) 1993
|
||
|
||
The Real Inheritan
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Jim Reid
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Some say I have my Granddad's eyes
|
||
and his big ears.
|
||
|
||
But I'd rather think
|
||
I have the sense of honor
|
||
he displayed daily at work.
|
||
His calm steel in tough times.
|
||
And the love of a family
|
||
put before himself.
|
||
|
||
Heredity is only a canvas
|
||
on which the real inheritance
|
||
is painted.
|
||
The likeness of my Granddad's spirit.
|
||
|
||
|
||
Borodino Landing
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Mark Denslow
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Borodino Landing
|
||
|
||
I remember you
|
||
when the sun rose at Lake Skaneatales
|
||
out of the blue-green water
|
||
the summer was to itself warm and young
|
||
then you were as old as the hills
|
||
you days were as many as
|
||
the risings and settings of the sun
|
||
God took his fingers
|
||
and created these "Finger Lakes"
|
||
my grandfather taught me this
|
||
when I was three
|
||
we would go fishing
|
||
this is where my mother and father honeymooned
|
||
the old steamboat landing
|
||
|
||
I FEAR
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Patricia Meeks
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
I want your touch,
|
||
But I fear it may be a hot brand
|
||
to burn me.
|
||
|
||
I want your smile,
|
||
But I fear it's brightness
|
||
may blind me.
|
||
|
||
I want your arms,
|
||
But I fear their strength
|
||
may crush me.
|
||
|
||
I want your love,
|
||
But I fear it's tenderness
|
||
may bruise me.
|
||
|
||
I want all of you,
|
||
But I fear you are dangerous
|
||
to my health,
|
||
my love.
|
||
|
||
By
|
||
Tricia Meeks
|
||
12/26/91
|
||
What We Say
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, J. Guenther
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
*Something wrong*
|
||
(I hear it;
|
||
It's like a low hum or soft purr)
|
||
[And I can hear it in the world]
|
||
|
||
*Convert to GIF--
|
||
Override the interlace header and read the PCX,
|
||
Crank the MODs*
|
||
(Lightspeed C through CyberSpace)
|
||
[Overtake Pascal by leapbounds and
|
||
be sure to document it]
|
||
|
||
*There's something still wrong*
|
||
(Potential turns to kinetic energy)
|
||
[Centripetal force dances around the radius
|
||
while we examine the slope of the tangent]
|
||
|
||
([We sometimes get caught up with our words...])
|
||
*Just listen to the spin doctors...*
|
||
|
||
[We know what we say and we know what we mean]
|
||
(But does that mean)
|
||
[(*that you know what we mean, too?*)]
|
||
|
||
Choked Out Blossom
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Michie Sidwell
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHOKED OUT BLOSSOM
|
||
|
||
|
||
Writhing in the shame of skin
|
||
Spilled lips
|
||
With the imperfections of word
|
||
Sought to make like prettier
|
||
In the white rapture
|
||
Of oiled paper
|
||
Blends the spectrum of tear
|
||
With the colours of coughed blood
|
||
Pulverized by the rape of the earth
|
||
The swallowed seed shoved into a cell
|
||
From the womb till the headkick of light
|
||
And this is why the babies cry
|
||
But learns to adapt to blood and shadow
|
||
Killing and maiming
|
||
By the gun or the more primitive murder
|
||
Of the word
|
||
Struck the hammer inside
|
||
And smothered the eyes with death prose
|
||
The prepared fable of the grave
|
||
|
||
|
||
Open Wide
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, David Ziegler
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Open Wide
|
||
Open wide they said, here it comes. It never tasted good.
|
||
Always bitter ar sour. So then they made it pretty colors .
|
||
So I might think it something else; Cherry Soda perhaps or
|
||
Grape. Then they quit even trying to fool me they just said take
|
||
it its good for you. But I don`t like it ! I said. We all knew I
|
||
had no choice.
|
||
|
||
Open wide they said its good for you, It wont hurt at all
|
||
Then the room got funny and everything was mushy. I
|
||
floated This time and even I though it wasn`t good I sure liked
|
||
the floating part. Open wide they said as they pumped my
|
||
stomach. Too much of A good thing? Perhaps well better luck
|
||
next time just a little less maybe.
|
||
|
||
Open wide they said this wont hurt, you wont feel a thing.
|
||
They skillfully removed my dignity, my honor and were working on
|
||
my soul. Stop I said I am in here and I want to be heard!
|
||
Shhhh. It will all be over in a minute . And it was.
|
||
A shell emerged bearing my name, resembling me in so many ways.
|
||
But It was not me. The fire was gone, the spirit had
|
||
left.
|
||
|
||
The shell continued onward. Pausing now and then to
|
||
reflect. What was it that brought him to this place. His parents
|
||
? not really. His teachers ? not entirely. Society ? not hardly.
|
||
A steady diet of opening wide ? Of blind trust ?
|
||
|
||
We may never know what brought him here to this place that
|
||
disgusts us. We may never know why the blank stare in
|
||
his eyes. But we must know this we played a part each
|
||
and everyone of us With our selfish uncaring attitudes.
|
||
And our unending search for success no matter the cost.
|
||
He could have been one of us, in fact he was. The
|
||
pressure got to him and he just gave up.
|
||
|
||
|
||
It was a slow process the little things went first. He opened
|
||
wide and let them take his pride. Then his heart went and all
|
||
that was left was his job, his title, his place high up on the
|
||
pecking order. Then one day they said to him you have to go.
|
||
There was nothing left. The kids had left long ago along
|
||
with the wife he had ignored for so long. Well she left to
|
||
enter her own nightmare pecking order; we still don`t know
|
||
how that will turn out.
|
||
|
||
In the middle of the rust belt with a shopping cart and an
|
||
M.B.A. he paused and wondered if I had just once said no ! This
|
||
is not in my best interest. Would it have been better somehow?
|
||
I think so . Sheep are never allowed too wear their coats for
|
||
very long and the big fish always eat the small fish.
|
||
|
||
So Tell Me !
|
||
|
||
How does it feel to be just another part of the food chain ?
|
||
|
||
|
||
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² Humour ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Top Ten List
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
Top Ten Returned Christmas Gifts
|
||
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
|
||
|
||
10. Chia Pet Marital Aid
|
||
9. Complete Boxed Set of Chevy Chase Show (1 VHS Tape)
|
||
8. Jurassic Pork Cutlets Gift Set
|
||
7. Michael Bolton & Barry Manilow: White Boys In the 'Hood Rap CD
|
||
6. Rush Limbaugh's "Let's Get Naked and Sweat" Exercise Video
|
||
5. John Wayne Bobbit Doll (returned for non-working Parts)
|
||
4. Playboy "Girls of 7-11" Christmas Calendar
|
||
3. New Domino's Pizza T-Shirt: "30 Min. Or, Well, It's Late."
|
||
2. Michael Jackson's Li'l Tykes Playhouse
|
||
1. Crotchless Trousers
|
||
|
||
Curmudgeon Letters
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Al Ruffin
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
<PUBLIC><ECHO><HAS REPLIES><RECEIVED>
|
||
Number : 1386 of 1390 Date : 12/18/93 09:24
|
||
Confer : STTS Mag <P&BNet> <P&BNet>
|
||
From : Al Ruffin
|
||
To : Joe Derouen
|
||
Subject : WHERE AM I?
|
||
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
JD>Personally speaking, I'm right here. Typing. Working on getting the
|
||
JD>Jan. issue of STTS out. Help me out by writing me a nice "letters to
|
||
JD>the editor" type letter. <grin>
|
||
|
||
The Editor:
|
||
|
||
Sir:
|
||
|
||
I take keyboard in hand to complain of a situation that must be put
|
||
right.
|
||
|
||
Our once proud nation, the ruler of the known Universe, is being ruined.
|
||
|
||
Ever since these yuppies came along and began drinking white wine, the
|
||
United States of America as we all knew and loved it has been destroyed.
|
||
|
||
White wine is no substitute for the manly drink of strong likker.
|
||
Cheese no substitute for roast beef and potatoes, for ham and grits.
|
||
|
||
Sex, once confined to the privacy of the family automobile and living
|
||
room couch, is now practiced openly, and with the lights on. With white
|
||
wine. Why, I've heard that that Kennedy whelp tossed a waitress on a
|
||
table in a downtown Washington restaurant. Dens of Iniquity!
|
||
|
||
I call for all men to at once return to the good old, established
|
||
American practices of swigging likker from the bottle, stuffing
|
||
themselves to bursting at every meal, and screwing in private like God
|
||
intended.
|
||
|
||
Y'rs. Cur M. Udgeon, Private, USA (Ret'd)
|
||
|
||
|
||
Editor:
|
||
|
||
Our country is being ruined.
|
||
|
||
There are too many of them and too few of us.
|
||
|
||
I know how to end the population explosion of the lower classes.
|
||
|
||
DeWayne Bobbitt can be the first to head a new Federal Agency, which I
|
||
recommend be named "Bobbitt Off Population" in his honor.
|
||
|
||
Gun control is not the answer.
|
||
|
||
And, if they don't speak English real good, I say get rid of them.
|
||
|
||
Cur. M. Udgeon, Prof of Societal Studies, Offshore Univ. (ret'd)
|
||
|
||
---
|
||
þ SLMR 2.1a þ "Windows: Just another pane inthe glass."--Avenir R.
|
||
þ RTUTI r2 v1.01á þ by Walter Ames, The GreyHawk BBS (410)720-5083
|
||
* FTB's Passport BBS, 301-662-9134 Second star on the left.
|
||
* PostLink(tm) v1.05 PASSPORT (#1716) : P&BNet(tm)
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
|
||
Happy New Year
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, J. DeRouen and A. Unknown
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
You Know You Had
|
||
A Little *Too*
|
||
Happy New Year's Eve
|
||
If...
|
||
|
||
|
||
1. You wake up January 7th in Yokohama.
|
||
|
||
2. Your head weighs 260 lbs. (Not counting your breath!)
|
||
|
||
3. You're married to three different people whose names you can't seem
|
||
to recall.
|
||
|
||
4. Your shoes are on your ears.
|
||
|
||
5. You are standing naked on one leg in front of the library,
|
||
squirting water out of your mouth a pigeon on your nose.
|
||
|
||
6. Your hair aches.
|
||
|
||
7. Someone is attempting to install your tongue in the hall as wall-
|
||
to-wall carpeting.
|
||
|
||
8. Your socks are still rolling up and down.
|
||
|
||
9. There is an elephant in your bedroom.
|
||
|
||
10. Your skin is the colour of a martini.
|
||
|
||
11. You have a hickey where you have never had a hickey before.
|
||
|
||
12. Someone calls from Tijuana saying they've found some underwear with
|
||
your name on it.
|
||
|
||
13. Your find your signature on a contract for 470 `special rate'
|
||
lessons at Ludendorff's Drive and Dance School.
|
||
|
||
14. You have 8 unsigned IOU's in your wallet where your credit cards
|
||
used to be.
|
||
|
||
15. You want to drink Lake Michigan, polluted or not.
|
||
|
||
16. You find you've had 12 pounds of silicone inserted in a most
|
||
unusual place.
|
||
|
||
17. You have an engagement ring on your finger with the inscription
|
||
"Love from Bruce".
|
||
|
||
18. There is a fried clam in your navel.
|
||
|
||
19. The pain is indescribable.
|
||
|
||
20. You keep calling for your mother.
|
||
|
||
21. There is chimpanzee hair on your shoulder.
|
||
|
||
23. All you want for breakfast is a bowl of steam.
|
||
|
||
24. There's a Chia pet growing in your belly button
|
||
|
||
25. You wake up in EuroDisney
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!
|
||
|
||
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² Information ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
|
||
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
There are several different ways to get STTS magazine.
|
||
|
||
|
||
SysOps:
|
||
|
||
Contact me via any of the addresses listed in CONTACT POINTS listed
|
||
elsewhere in this issue. Just drop me a note telling me your name,
|
||
city, state, your BBS's name, it's phone number and it's baud rate, and
|
||
where you'll be getting STTS from each month. If your BBS carries RIME,
|
||
Pen & Brush Network, or you have access to the InterNet, I can put you
|
||
on the STTS mailing list to receive the magazine free of charge each
|
||
month. If you have access to FIDO, you can file request the magazine.
|
||
If you don't have access to any of these services - or do but don't
|
||
wish to use this option - you can call any of the BBS's listed in
|
||
DISTRIBUTION SITES and download the new issue each month. In either
|
||
case contact me so that I can put your BBS in the dist. site list for
|
||
the next issue of the magazine.
|
||
|
||
(Refer to DISTRIBUTION VIA NETWORKS for more detailed information about
|
||
the nets)
|
||
|
||
|
||
Users:
|
||
|
||
You can download STTS each month from any of the BBS's mentioned in
|
||
DISTRIBUTION SITES elsewhere in this issue. If your local BBS isn't
|
||
listed, pester and cajole your SysOp to "subscribe" to STTS for you.
|
||
(the subscription, of course, is free)
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
If you haven't any other way of receiving the magazine each month, a
|
||
monthly disk subscription (sent out via US Mail) is available for
|
||
$ 20.00 per year. Foreign subscriptions are $ 25.00 (american dollars).
|
||
|
||
Subscriptions should be mailed to:
|
||
|
||
Joe DeRouen
|
||
14232 Marsh Ln. # 51
|
||
Addison, Tx. 75234
|
||
U.S.A.
|
||
|
||
|
||
* Special Offer *
|
||
|
||
[ Idea stolen from Dave Bealer's RaH Magazine. So sue me. <G> ]
|
||
|
||
Having trouble finding back issues of STTS Magazine? (This is only the
|
||
seventh issue, but you never know..)
|
||
|
||
For only $ 5.00 (count 'em - five dollars!) I'll send you all the back
|
||
issues of STTS Mag as well as current issues of other magazines, and
|
||
whatever other current, new shareware will fit onto a disk.
|
||
|
||
Just send your $ 5.00 (money order or check please, US funds only, made
|
||
payable to: Joe DeRouen) to:
|
||
|
||
Joe DeRouen
|
||
14232 Marsh Ln. # 51
|
||
Dallas, Tx. 75234
|
||
U.S.A.
|
||
|
||
Tell me if you want a high density 5 1/4" disk or a high density 3 1/2"
|
||
disk, please.
|
||
|
||
(The following form is duplicated in the text file FORM.TXT, included
|
||
with this archive)
|
||
|
||
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
||
|
||
Enclosed is a check or money order (US funds only!) for $ 5.00. Please
|
||
send me the back issues of STTS, the registered version of Quote!, and
|
||
whatever else you can cram onto the disk.
|
||
|
||
I want: [ ] 5.25" HD disk [ ] 3.5" HD disk
|
||
|
||
Send to:
|
||
|
||
________________________________________
|
||
|
||
________________________________________
|
||
|
||
________________________________________
|
||
|
||
________________________________________
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Submission Information
|
||
----------------------
|
||
|
||
|
||
We're looking for a few good writers.
|
||
|
||
Actually, we're looking for as many good writers as we can find. We're
|
||
interested in fiction, poetry, reviews, feature articles (about most
|
||
anything, as long as it's well-written), humour, essays, ANSI art,
|
||
and RIP art.
|
||
|
||
STTS is dedicated to showcasing as many talents as it can, in all forms
|
||
and genres. We have no general "theme" aside from good writing,
|
||
innovative concepts, and unique execution of those concepts.
|
||
|
||
As of January 1st 1994, we're going to begin PAYING for accepted
|
||
submissions!
|
||
|
||
In a bold move, STTS has decided to offer an incentive for writers to
|
||
submit their works. For each accepted submission, an honorarium fee
|
||
will be paid upon publication. Premium access to STTS BBS is also
|
||
given to staff and contributing writers.
|
||
|
||
In addition to the monthly payments, STTS will hold a bi-annual "best
|
||
of" contest, where the best published stories and articles in three
|
||
categories will receive substantial cash prizes.
|
||
|
||
These changes will take effect in January of 1994, and the first
|
||
bi-annual awards will be presented in the July 1994 issue.
|
||
|
||
Honorariums, bi-annual cash awards, award winners selection
|
||
processes, and Contributor BBS access is explained below:
|
||
|
||
|
||
HONORARIUM
|
||
|
||
Each and every article and story accepted for publication in STTS will
|
||
received a cash honorarium. The payment is small and is meant as more
|
||
of a token than something to reflect the value of the submission.
|
||
|
||
As the magazine grows and brings in more money, the honorariums will
|
||
increase, as will the bi-annual award amounts.
|
||
|
||
|
||
Fiction pieces pay an honorarium of $2.00 each.
|
||
Poetry pieces pay an honorarium of $1.00 each
|
||
Non-fiction* pieces pay an honorarium of $1.00 each
|
||
|
||
|
||
You have the option of refusing your honorarium. Refused funds will be
|
||
donated to the American Cancer Society.
|
||
|
||
Staff members ARE eligible for honorariums.
|
||
|
||
* Non-fiction includes any feature articles, humor, reviews, and
|
||
anything else that doesn't fit into the fiction or poetry category.
|
||
|
||
|
||
BI-ANNUAL CASH AWARD
|
||
|
||
Twice a year (every six months) the staff of STTS magazine will meet
|
||
and vote on the stories, poems, and articles that have appeared in the
|
||
last six issues of the magazine. Each staff member (the publisher
|
||
included) gets one vote, and can use that vote on only one entry in
|
||
each category.
|
||
|
||
In the unlikely event of a tie, the winners will split the cash award.
|
||
|
||
Winners will be announced in the July and January issues of the
|
||
magazine.
|
||
|
||
Anyone serving on the staff of STTS magazine is NOT eligible for the
|
||
bi-annual awards.
|
||
|
||
Bi-annual prize amounts
|
||
-----------------------
|
||
|
||
Fiction $50.00
|
||
Non-fiction 25.00
|
||
Poetry 25.00
|
||
|
||
|
||
The winner in each category does have the option of refusing his cash
|
||
award. In the event of such a refusal, the entire sum of the refused
|
||
cash awards will be donated to the American Cancer Society.
|
||
|
||
|
||
STTS BBS
|
||
|
||
Staff members and contributing writers will also receive level 40
|
||
access on Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS. Such access consists of 2
|
||
hrs. a day, unlimited download bytes per day, and no download/upload
|
||
ratio. A regular user receives 1 hr. a day and has an download/upload
|
||
ratio of 10:1.
|
||
|
||
Staff and contributing writers also receive access to a special
|
||
private STTS Staff conference on the BBS.
|
||
|
||
|
||
LIMITATIONS
|
||
|
||
STTS will still accept previously published stories and articles for
|
||
publication. However, previously published submissions do NOT qualify
|
||
for contention in the bi-annual awards.
|
||
|
||
Furthermore, previously published stories and articles will be paid at
|
||
a 50% honorarium of the normal honorarium fee.
|
||
|
||
|
||
RIGHTS
|
||
|
||
The copyright of said material, of course, remains the sole property
|
||
of the author. STTS has the right to present it once in a "showcase"
|
||
format and in an annual "best of" issue. (a paper version as well
|
||
as the elec. version)
|
||
|
||
Acceptance of submitted material does NOT necessarily mean that it
|
||
will appear in STTS.
|
||
|
||
Submissions should be in 100% pure ASCII format. There are no
|
||
limitations in terms of lengths of articles, but keep in mind it's
|
||
a magazine, not a novel. <Grin>
|
||
|
||
Fiction and poetry will be handled on a pure submission basis, except
|
||
in the case of any round-robin stories or continuing stories that might
|
||
develop.
|
||
|
||
Reviews will also be handled on a submission basis. If you're
|
||
interested in doing a particular review medium (ie: books) on a
|
||
full-time basis, let me know and we'll talk.
|
||
|
||
ANSI art should be under 10k and can be about any subject as long as
|
||
it's not pornographic. We'll feature ANSI art from time to time,
|
||
as well as featuring a different ANSI "cover" for our magazine each
|
||
month.
|
||
|
||
In terms of articles, we're looking for just about anything that's
|
||
of fairly general interest to the BBSing world at large. An article
|
||
comparing several new high-speed modems would be appropriate, for
|
||
example, whereas an article describing in detail how to build your
|
||
own such modem really wouldn't be.
|
||
|
||
Articles needn't be contained to the world of computing, either.
|
||
Movies, politics, ecology, literature, entertainment, fiction,
|
||
non-fiction, reviews - it's all fair game for STTS.
|
||
|
||
Articles, again, will be handled on a submission basis. If anyone has
|
||
an idea or two for a regular column, let me know. If it works, we'll
|
||
incorporate it into STTS.
|
||
|
||
Writers interested in contributing to Sunlight Through The Shadows can
|
||
reach me through any of the following methods:
|
||
|
||
|
||
Contact Points
|
||
--------------
|
||
|
||
The Internet - My E_Mail address is: joe.derouen@chrysalis.org
|
||
|
||
RIME - My NODE ID is SUNLIGHT or 5320. Send all files to
|
||
this address. (you'll have to ask your SysOp who's
|
||
carrying RIME to send it for you) Alternately, you
|
||
can simply post it in either the Sunlight Through
|
||
The Shadows Magazine, Common, Writers, or Poetry
|
||
Corner conference to: Joe Derouen. If you put a
|
||
->5320 or ->SUNLIGHT in the top-most upper left-hand
|
||
corner, it'll be routed directly to my BBS.
|
||
|
||
Pen & Brush Net - Leave me a note or submission in either the Sunlight
|
||
Through The Shadows Magazine conference, the Poetry
|
||
Corner conference, or the Writers Conference. If
|
||
your P&BNet contact is using PostLink, you can route
|
||
the message to me automatically via the same way as
|
||
described above for RIME. In either case, address
|
||
all correspondence to: Joe derouen.
|
||
|
||
WME Net - Leave me a note or submission in the Net Chat
|
||
conference. Address all correspondence to:
|
||
Joe Derouen.
|
||
|
||
My BBS - Sunlight Through The Shadows. 12/24/96/14.4k baud.
|
||
(214) 620-8793. You can upload submissions to the
|
||
STTS Magazine file area, comment to the SysOp, or
|
||
just about any other method you choose. Address all
|
||
correspondence to: Joe Derouen.
|
||
|
||
US Mail - Send disks (any size, IBM format ONLY) containing
|
||
submissions to:
|
||
|
||
Joe DeRouen
|
||
14232 Marsh Ln. # 51
|
||
Dallas, Tx. 75234
|
||
U.S.A.
|
||
|
||
|
||
Advertising
|
||
-----------
|
||
|
||
Currently, STTS Mag is being "officially" carried by over 70 BBS's
|
||
across the United States. It's also being carried by BBS's in the
|
||
United Kingdom, Canada, Portugal, and Finland.
|
||
|
||
Unofficially (which means that the SysOps haven't yet notifed me that
|
||
they carry it) it's popped up on literally hundreds of BBS's across the
|
||
USA as well as in other countries including the UK, Canada, Portugal,
|
||
Ireland, Japan, The Netherlands, and Scotland.
|
||
|
||
It's also available via Internet, FIDO, RIME, and
|
||
Pen & Brush Networks.
|
||
|
||
Currently, STTS has about 10,000 readers worldwide and is available
|
||
to literally millions of BBSers through the internet and other
|
||
networks and BBS's.
|
||
|
||
If you or your company want to expose your product to a variety of
|
||
people all across the world, this is your opportunity!
|
||
|
||
Advertising in Sunlight Through The Shadows Magazine is available
|
||
in four different formats:
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
1) Personal Advertisements (NON-Business)
|
||
-----------------------
|
||
|
||
Personal advertisements run $5.00 for 4 lines of advertising, with each
|
||
additional line $1.00. Five lines is the minimum length. Your ad can be
|
||
as little as one line, but the cost is still $5.00.
|
||
|
||
Advertisements should be in ASCII and formatted for 80 columns. They
|
||
should include whatever you're trying to sell (or buy) as well as a
|
||
price and a method of contacting you.
|
||
|
||
ANSI or RIP ads at this level will NOT be accepted.
|
||
|
||
Business ads will NOT be accepted here. These ads are for non-business
|
||
readers to advertise something they wish to sell or buy, or to
|
||
advertise a non-profit event.
|
||
|
||
BBS ads are considered business ads.
|
||
|
||
|
||
2) Regular Advertisement (Business or Personal)
|
||
---------------------
|
||
|
||
We're accepting business advertisements in STTS. If you're interested
|
||
in advertising in STTS, a full-page (ASCII or ASCII and ANSI) is
|
||
$25.00/issue. Those interested can contact me by any of the means
|
||
listed under Contact Points.
|
||
|
||
If you purchase 5 months of advertising ($125.00) the sixth month is
|
||
free.
|
||
|
||
|
||
3) Feature Advertisement (Business or Personal)
|
||
---------------------
|
||
|
||
We'll include one feature ad per issue. The feature ad will pop up
|
||
right after the magazine's ANSI cover, when the user first begins to
|
||
read the magazine. This ad will also appear within the body of the
|
||
magazine, for further perusement by the reader.
|
||
|
||
A feature ad will run $50.00 per issue, and should be created in
|
||
both ANSI and ASCII formats.
|
||
|
||
If you purchase 5 months of advertising ($250.00) the sixth month is
|
||
free.
|
||
|
||
|
||
4) BBS Advertisement (Business or Personal)
|
||
-----------------
|
||
|
||
Many BBS SysOps and users call STTS BBS each month to get the current
|
||
issue of STTS Magazine. These callers are from all over the USA as well
|
||
as Canada, Portugal, the UK, and various other countries.
|
||
|
||
Advertising is now available for the logoff screen of the BBS. The
|
||
rates are $100.00 per month. Ads should be in both ASCII and ANSI
|
||
format. We're accepting RIP ads as well, but only for the this
|
||
advertising option.
|
||
|
||
If you purchase 5 months of advertising ($500.00) the sixth month is
|
||
free.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Advertisement Specifications
|
||
----------------------------
|
||
|
||
Ads may be in as many as three formats. They MUST be in ascii text and
|
||
may also be in ANSI and/or RIP Graphics formats.
|
||
|
||
Ads should be no larger than 24 lines (ie: one screen/page) and ANSI
|
||
ads should not use extensive animation.
|
||
|
||
If you cannot make your own ad or do not have the time to make your
|
||
own ad, we can make it for you. However, there is a one-time charge of
|
||
$10.00 for this service. We will create ads in ASCII and ANSI only. If
|
||
you absolutely need RIP ads and cannot create your own, we'll attempt
|
||
to put you into contact with someone who can.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Contact Points
|
||
--------------
|
||
|
||
|
||
You can contact me through any of the following addresses.
|
||
|
||
|
||
Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS
|
||
(214) 620-8793 12/24/96/14,400 Baud
|
||
|
||
InterNet: joe.derouen@chrysalis.org
|
||
|
||
Pen & Brush Net: ->SUNLIGHT
|
||
P&BNet Conferences: Sunlight Through The Shadows Conference
|
||
or any other conference
|
||
|
||
WME Net: Net Chat conference
|
||
|
||
PcRelay/RIME: ->SUNLIGHT
|
||
RIME Conferences: Common, Writers, or Poetry Corner
|
||
|
||
US Mail: Joe DeRouen
|
||
14232 Marsh Ln. # 51
|
||
Dallas, Tx. 75234
|
||
U.S.A.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
You can always find STTS Magazine on the following BBS's.
|
||
BBS's have STTS available for both on-line viewing and
|
||
downloading unless otherwise marked.
|
||
|
||
* = On-Line Only
|
||
# = Download Only
|
||
|
||
|
||
United States
|
||
-------------
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Sunlight Through The Shadows
|
||
Location ........... Addison, Texas (in the Dallas area)
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Joe and Heather DeRouen
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 620-8793 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
(Sorted by area code, then alphabetically)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... ModemNews
|
||
Location ........... Stamford, Connecticut
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Jeff Green
|
||
Phone ........... (203) 359-2299 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
# BBS Name ........... Lobster Buoy
|
||
Location ........... Bangor, Maine
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Goodwin
|
||
Phone ........... (207) 941-0805 (14.4k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (207) 945-9346 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... File-Link BBS
|
||
Location ........... Manhattan, New York
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Bill Marcy
|
||
Phone ........... (212) 777-8282 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Poetry In Motion
|
||
Location ........... New York, New York
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Inez Harrison
|
||
Phone ........... (212) 666-6927 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Wamblyville
|
||
Location ........... Los Angeles, California
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... John Borowski
|
||
Phone ........... (213) 380-8188 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Archives On-line
|
||
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... David Pellecchia
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 247-6512 (14.4k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 406-8394 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
# BBS Name ........... BBS America
|
||
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Jay Gaines
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 680-3406 (9600 baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 680-1451 (9600 baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Bucket Bored!
|
||
Location ........... Sachse, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Tim Bellomy
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 414-6913 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Chrysalis BBS
|
||
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Garry Grosse
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 690-9295 (2400 baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 783-5477 (9600 baud)
|
||
|
||
# BBS Name ........... Collector's Edition
|
||
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Len Hult
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 351-9871 (14.4k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 351-9871 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... New Age Visions
|
||
Location ........... Grand Prairie, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Larry Joe Reynolds
|
||
Phone ........... <Temporarily Down>
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Old Poop's World
|
||
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Sonny Grissom
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 613-6900 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Opa's Mini-BBS (open 11pm-7am CST)
|
||
Location ........... Plano, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... David Marshall
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 424-0153 (2400 baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Texas Talk
|
||
Location ........... Richardson, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Sunnie Blair
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 497-9100 (2400 baud)
|
||
|
||
# BBS Name ........... User-2-User
|
||
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... William Pendergast and Kevin Carr
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 393-4768 (14.4k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 393-4736 (2400 baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Deep 13 - MST3K
|
||
Location ........... Levittown, Pennsylvania
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Mike Slusher
|
||
Phone ........... (215) 943-9526 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Bill & Hilary's BBS
|
||
Location ........... Elkhart, Indiana
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Nancy VanWormer
|
||
Phone ........... (219) 295-6206
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... The "us" Project
|
||
Location ........... Wilmington, Delaware
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Walt Mateja, PhD
|
||
Phone ........... (302) 529-1650
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Right Angle BBS
|
||
Location ........... Aurora, Colorado
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Bill Roark
|
||
Phone ........... (303) 337-0219
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Ruby's Joint
|
||
Location ........... Miami, Florida
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... David and Del Freeman
|
||
Phone ........... (305) 856-4897 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... PUB Desktop Publishing BBS, The
|
||
Location ........... Chicago, Illinois
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Steve Gjondla
|
||
Phone ........... (312) 767-5787 (9600 baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Pegasus BBS
|
||
Location ........... Owensboro, Kentucky
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Raymond Clements
|
||
Phone ........... (317) 651-0234 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Puma Wildcat BBS
|
||
Location ........... Alexandria, Louisiana
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Chuck McMillin
|
||
Phone ........... (318) 443-1065 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Badger's "BYTE", The
|
||
Location ........... Valentine, Nebraska
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Dick Roosa
|
||
Phone ........... (402) 376-3120 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Megabyte Mansion, The
|
||
Location ........... Omaha, Nebraska
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Todd Robbins
|
||
Phone ........... (402) 551-8681 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... College Board, The
|
||
Location ........... West Palm Beach, Florida
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Charles Bell
|
||
Phone ........... (407) 731-1675 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Aries Knowledge Systems
|
||
Location ........... Baltimore, Maryland
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Waddell Robey
|
||
Phone ........... (410) 625-0109 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Doppler Base BBS
|
||
Location ........... Baltimore, Maryland
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Dan Myers
|
||
Phone ........... (410) 922-1352 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Port EINSTEIN
|
||
Location ........... Catonsville, Maryland
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... John P. Lynch
|
||
Phone ........... (410) 744-4692 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Puffin's Nest, The
|
||
Location ........... Pasadena, Maryland
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Dave Bealer
|
||
Phone ........... (410) 437-3463 (16.8k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Robin's Nest BBS
|
||
Location ........... Glen Burnie, Maryland
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Robin Kirkey
|
||
Phone ........... (410) 766-9756 (2400 baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Chatterbox Lounge and Hotel, The
|
||
Location ........... Penn Hills, Pennsylvania
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... James Robert Lunsford
|
||
Phone ........... (412) 795-4454 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Signal Hill BBS
|
||
Location ........... Springfield, Massachusettes
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Edwin Thompson
|
||
Phone ........... (413) 782-2158 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Exec-PC
|
||
Location ........... Elm Grove, Wisconsin
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Bob Mahoney
|
||
Phone ........... (414) 789-4210 (2400 baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (414) 789-4315 (9600 baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (414) 789-4360 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... First Step BBS, The
|
||
Location ........... Green Bay, Wisconsin
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Phillips
|
||
Phone ........... (414) 499-7471 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Lincoln's Cabin BBS
|
||
Location ........... San Francisco, California
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Steve Pomerantz
|
||
Phone ........... (415) 752-4490 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Uncle "D"s Discovery
|
||
Location ........... Redwood City, California
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Dave Spensley
|
||
Phone ........... (415) 364-3001 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Darkside BBS, The
|
||
Location ........... Independence, Oregon
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Seth Robinson
|
||
Phone ........... (503) 838-6171 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Last Byte, The
|
||
Location ........... Alamogordo, New Mexico
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Robert Sheffield
|
||
Phone ........... (505) 437-0060 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Leisure Time BBS
|
||
Location ........... Alamogordo, New Mexico
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Bob Riddell
|
||
Phone ........... (505) 434-6940 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... High Society BBS
|
||
Location ........... Beverly, Massachusettes
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Chuck Frieser
|
||
Phone ........... (508) 927-3757 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
# BBS Name ........... SoftWare Creations
|
||
Location ........... Clinton, Massachusettes
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Dan Linton
|
||
Phone ........... (508) 368-7036 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Extreme OnLine
|
||
Location ........... Spokane, Washington
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Jim Holderman
|
||
Phone ........... (509) 487-5303 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Silicon Garden, The
|
||
Location ........... Selden, New York
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Andy Keeves
|
||
Phone ........... (516) 736-6662 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Integrity Online
|
||
Location ........... Schenectady, New York
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Dan Ginsburg, Jordan Feinman, Dave Garvey
|
||
Phone ........... (518) 370-8758 (14.4k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (518) 370-8756 (2400 baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Tidal Wave BBS
|
||
Location ........... Altamont, New York
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Josh Perfetto
|
||
Phone ........... (518) 861-6645 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Casino Bulletin Board, The
|
||
Location ........... Atlantic City, New Jersey
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Dave Schubert
|
||
Phone ........... (609) 561-3377 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Revision Systems
|
||
Location ........... Lawrenceville, New Jersey
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Paul Lauda
|
||
Phone ........... (609) 896-3256 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Hangar 18
|
||
Location ........... Columbus, Ohio
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Bob Dunlap
|
||
Phone ........... (614) 488-2314 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Channel 1
|
||
Location ........... Cambridge, Massachusettes
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Brian Miller
|
||
Phone ........... (617) 354-3230 (14.4k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (617) 354-3137 (16.8k HST)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Bubba Systems One
|
||
Location ........... Manassas, Virginia
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Mosko
|
||
Phone ........... (703) 335-1253 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
# BBS Name ........... Arts Place BBS, The
|
||
Location ........... Arlington, Virginia
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Ron Fitzherbert
|
||
Phone ........... (703) 528-8467 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Pen and Brush BBS
|
||
Location ........... Burke, Virginia
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Lucia and John Chambers
|
||
Phone ........... (703) 644-6730 (300-12.0k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (703) 644-5196 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
# BBS Name ........... Sidewayz BBS
|
||
Location ........... Fairfax, Virginia
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Paul Cutrona
|
||
Phone ........... (703) 352-5412 (14.4 k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Zarno Board
|
||
Location ........... Martinez, Georiga
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Tim Saari
|
||
Phone ........... (706) 860-7927 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Anathema Downs
|
||
Location ........... Sonoma County, California
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Sadie Jane
|
||
Phone ........... (707) 792-1555 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... InfoMat BBS
|
||
Location ........... San Clemente, California
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Michael Gibbs
|
||
Phone ........... (714) 492-8727 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Cool Baby BBS
|
||
Location ........... York, Pennsylvania
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Krieg
|
||
Phone ........... (717) 751-0855 (19.2 baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... T&J Software BBS
|
||
Location ........... Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Tom Wildoner
|
||
Phone ........... (717) 325-9481 (19.2 baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Systemic BBS
|
||
Location ........... Bronx, New York
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Mufutau Towobola
|
||
Phone ........... (718) 716-6198 (14.4k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (718) 716-6341 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Paradise City BBS
|
||
Location ........... St. George, Utah
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Steve & Marva Cutler
|
||
Phone ........... (801) 628-4212 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Straight Board, The
|
||
Location ........... Virginia Beach, Virginia
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Ray Sulich
|
||
Phone ........... (804) 468-6454 (14.4k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (804) 468-6528 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... TDOR#2
|
||
Location ........... Charlottesville, Virginia
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... David Short
|
||
Phone ........... (804) 973-5639 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Valley BBS, The
|
||
Location ........... Myakka City, Florida
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Larry Daymon
|
||
Phone ........... (813) 322-2589 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Syllables
|
||
Location ........... Fort Myers, Florida
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Jackie Jones
|
||
Phone ........... (813) 482-5276 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
# BBS Name ........... Renaissance BBS
|
||
Location ........... Arlington, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... David Pollard
|
||
Phone ........... (817) 467-7322 (9600 baud)
|
||
|
||
# BBS Name ........... Second Sanctum
|
||
Location ........... Arlington, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Robbins
|
||
Phone ........... (817) 784-1178 (2400 baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (817) 784-1179 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Dream Land BBS
|
||
Location ........... Destin, Florida
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Ron James
|
||
Phone ........... (904) 837-2567 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Tree BBS, The
|
||
Location ........... Ocala, Florida
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Frank Fowler
|
||
Phone ........... (904) 732-0866 (14.4k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (904) 732-8273 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Legend Graphics OnLine
|
||
Location ........... Riverside, California
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Joe Marquez
|
||
Phone ........... (909) 689-9229 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
|
||
Canada
|
||
------
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Encode Online
|
||
Location ........... Orillia Ontario, Canada
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Peter Ellis
|
||
Phone ........... (705) 327-7629 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
|
||
United Kingdom
|
||
--------------
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Hangar BBS, The
|
||
Location ........... Avon, England, United Kingdom
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Jason Hyland
|
||
Phone ........... +44-934-511751 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Pandora's Box BBS
|
||
Location ........... Brookmans Park, England, United Kingdom
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Dorothy Gibbs
|
||
Phone ........... +44-707-664778 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Almac BBS
|
||
Location ........... Grangemouth, Scotland, United Kingdom
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Alastair McIntyre
|
||
Phone ........... +44-324-665371 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
|
||
Finland
|
||
-------
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Niflheim BBS
|
||
Location ........... Mariehamn, Aaland Islands, Finland
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Kurtis Lindqvist
|
||
Phone ........... +358-28-17924 (16.8k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... +358-28-17424 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
|
||
Portugal
|
||
--------
|
||
|
||
BBS Name .......... Intriga Internacional
|
||
Location .......... Queluz, Portugal
|
||
SysOp(s) .......... Afonso Vicente
|
||
Phone .......... +351-1-4352629 (16.8k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name .......... B-Link BBS
|
||
Location .......... Lisbon, Portugal
|
||
SysOp(s) .......... Antonio Jorge
|
||
Phone .......... +351-1-4919755 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Mailhouse
|
||
Location ........... Loures, Portugal
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Carlos Santos
|
||
Phone ........... +351-1-9890140 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
SysOp: To have *your* BBS listed here, write me via one of the
|
||
many ways listed under CONTACT POINTS elsewhere in this
|
||
issue.
|
||
|
||
STTS Net Report
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
Sunlight Through The Shadows Magazine is available through FIDO,
|
||
INTERNET, RIME, and PEN & BRUSH NET. Check below for information on how
|
||
to request the current issue of the magazine or be put on the monthly
|
||
mailing list.
|
||
|
||
|
||
FIDO
|
||
|
||
To get the newest issue of the magazine via FIDO, you'll need to
|
||
do a file request from Fido Node 1:124/8010 using the "magic" name
|
||
of SUNLIGHT.
|
||
|
||
|
||
INTERNET
|
||
|
||
To get the newest issue via the internet, send a message to
|
||
FTPMAIL@CHRYSALIS.ORG and include as the first line in your message (or
|
||
second, if the system you're using forces you to use the first for the
|
||
address like) GET SUNyymm.ZIP where yymm is the current year and month.
|
||
Example: This issue is SUN9401.ZIP. After Feb. 1st, the current issue
|
||
will be SUN9402.ZIP, and so on. Easier than that would be to request
|
||
being put on the monthly mailing list. To do so, simply send a note to
|
||
Joe.Derouen@Chrysalis.org asking to be put on the STTS mailing list. If
|
||
you're a SysOp be sure to tell me your BBS's name, your name, your state
|
||
and city, the BBS's phone number(s) and it's baud rate(s) so I can
|
||
include you in the list issue's distribution list.
|
||
|
||
|
||
RIME
|
||
|
||
To request the magazine via RIME, ask your RIME SysOp to do a file
|
||
request from node # 5320 for the current issue (eg: SUN9402.ZIP, or
|
||
whatever month you happen to be in) Better yet, ask your SysOp to
|
||
request to be put on the monthly mailing list and receive STTS
|
||
automatically.
|
||
|
||
PEN & BRUSH NET
|
||
|
||
To request via P&BNet, follow the instructions for RIME above. They're
|
||
both ran on Postlink and operate exactly the same way in terms of file
|
||
requests and transfers.
|
||
|
||
|
||
I'd like to thank Garry Gross of Chrysalis BBS and David Pellecchia of
|
||
Archives On-line for allowing me to access the Internet and Fido
|
||
(respectively) from their systems.
|
||
|
||
End Notes
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
Happy January 2nd, 1994! Yes, indeed, STTS Magazine is exactly two days
|
||
late. If New Year's Eve hadn't fallen on the 31st this month, <Grin>
|
||
then it probably wouldn't have been. C'est la vie, and all that. I think
|
||
you'll be pleased with this issue (or have already been pleased,
|
||
depening upon when you're reading this column) and find it was worth the
|
||
extra two days wait.
|
||
|
||
Let us know what you think of the new format (the nested menus) as well
|
||
as the additon of Liz Shelton's ANSWER ME! column, my STTS BBS NEWS
|
||
column, and the monthly MY VIEW guest editorial. If you have a comment,
|
||
you know where to send it.
|
||
|
||
Here's to a great 1994!
|
||
|
||
Thanks for reading,
|
||
|
||
Joe DeRouen
|
||
January 2nd, 1994
|
||
|
||
|