269 lines
12 KiB
Plaintext
269 lines
12 KiB
Plaintext
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Copyright 1985, 1986 by Gregory S. Swann. All Rights Reserved.
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Direct inquiries to CIS I.D. 75115,1341.
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<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
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'Yahoo!!': The VOW Has 'The Bomb'
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I don't want to spoil anyone's mood. Nor rob the spring of eternal
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hope from anyone's step. But sooner or later, we have to wake up. 'The Bomb'
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is getting around.
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I guess it's all right to be 'committed' to 'arms control' if one
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has nothing better to do. To prattle about 'significant reductions' and
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'mutual verification'. To pin buttons on knapsacks and adopt the confused,
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fearful expression of the truly knowledgeable. And if someone compares
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you to an ostrich, call him a 'war-monger'. Nothing shuts 'em up like the
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old 'Big Lie'.
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But please don't pretend that anything can come of it. The present
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daft declarations simply demonstrate that balminess is an equal opportunity
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illness, whether it strikes in sweltering August or crisp November. By
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September, I expect an enterprising marketeer at =Time= or =Newsweek= to
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have coined a phrase, something like 'November Thaw', to foretell the
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outcome of the forthcoming 'summit'. And afterward we will be told
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that this was the actual result, since, as every alumnus knows, the observed
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must bow to the observer.
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Then all 'arms controllers' can hug themselves in in the smug glow of
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piety, praising yet another victory for that ancient force, the imperious
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demand.
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Dashed. All of it. Even grasping at the invisible straw of Soviet
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compliance, these facts remain: India has 'The Bomb'. So has France. Israel
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has 'The Bomb' and Pakistan will have it soon if it hasn't now. China is said
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to have =many= bombs. There are probably others, and there certainly will be
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more. I =know= there will be more.
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You see, the VOW has 'The Bomb'.
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Calm yourself. It's true: the Ohio Chapter of the Veterans of
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Overseas Wars has 'The Bomb'. Not too likely you've heard about it. People
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'committed' to uni- or bi-lateral 'arms control' don't talk a lot
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about the multi-lateral arms race. Or its logical conclusion...
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What happened was this:
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I was in Columbus on business. The VOW was in Columbus for its annual
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convention. All of us stayed at the Columbus Sheraton, but I think they
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enjoyed it more than I did. There were VOWers in the room next to mine, and,
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though I'm sure that's better than having them in the =same= room, I'm
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hard-pressed to say precisely how. A boisterous lot: one cackled like a
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Disney villain and another guffawed better than any laugh track. Most of
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their conversation was not as literate as that, mind you; they seemed to me to
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communicate mostly by yelps, yowls, and yahoos... at any and all hours.
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I did my best to hide my pain, in the room, in the hallways, in the
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elevators (ick!), but I don't know that I was entirely successful. I almost
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broke down on Saturday, when I saw four over-made-up matrons mangling 'God
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Bless America' with kazoos.
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But the real action didn't happen until Sunday.
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Have you ever been to Columbus? I suppose it's a very nice place to be
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normal. I'd be surprised if it pays to be anything other than normal... Sunday
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was the day of the Columbus Area Gay Pride March. When I learned of this
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latter datum, I wondered about the scheduling savvy of the VOWers. I
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didn't have to wonder for long.
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Item: it takes muscles to march for prideful pederasty in Columbus. All
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of the marchers were beefy, mean-looking men. Only about 15 dared to march, and
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one group's banner was from distant Pittsburg. Four jock-types were
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mangling 'Chariots of Fire' on glockenspiel. A brawny-gaudy
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transvestite was clashing with them, doing a creditable job of
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'I Am Woman' on kazoo.
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I heard some protest noises that sounded closer than the raindance
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eighteen floors below. I stepped onto the balcony to investigate and found
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assembled most of the VOWers. They were yelling and gesticulating wildly,
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waving angry signs: 'Stop the Commie Fags!', 'Ban Perversion!', 'Nuke Jane
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Fonda!'. There was a large oil drum hanging over the ledge of the balcony;
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painted a velvety flat black, it was inscribed in white block letters: 'A
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Cure For AIDS!'
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There was a flabby Good Ol' Boy lounging against the guardrail,
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grinding away slowly at a chaw of tobacco. He wore loose-fitting
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Wranglers and a T-shirt that was valliantly failing to contain his
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beer belly. As I watched, he scrunched up his face and, taking careful aim,
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let fly a stream of tobacco sputum. Below, one of the marchers looked up
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and shook his fist. "Hee, hee!," said Good Ol' Boy. "That'll teach 'em!"
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I'll understate myself and say I was revolted. My mouth was too wet,
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and I felt an urgent need to change the subject. Fast. "Is that really a cure
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for AIDS?" I pointed to the oil drum.
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"Hee, hee!," said Good Ol' Boy of the VOW. "Hee, hee! ...BOOM! Right,
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Lester?" He brushed at the sleeve of a crony, so far as I could tell a Good
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Ol' Boy clone, down to the creased red skin and the beady-crafty eyes. "BOOM!"
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"Yahoo!!," said Lester.
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"That's a sure-fire cure for AIDS, son," Good Ol' Boy went on.
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"Sure-fire! Hee, hee!"
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"Really? That's interesting. How does it work?"
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"BOOM! Hee, hee!"
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"...??"
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His smile was both crafty and gloating. "Boy, that's a nucular
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warhead!"
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"Nu=cle=ar," I said out of habit.
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"Nu...cular," he didn't mimic.
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My mind caught up with the conversation: "...that's a bomb...?"
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"Yep! Hee, hee!"
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"A bomb... '=The= Bomb'...??"
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"Hee, hee!!"
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Deep breath. "The Ohio VOW has 'The Bomb'?"
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"BOOM! Hee, hee!"
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"...is it armed?" I pointed to the steel drum. "Is that =really=
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a bomb...?"
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He sent another train of sputtle over the ledge. I had to turn away.
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"It ain't armed." He looked disgusted. "Hell, it ain't even finished yet!"
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I sighed with relief. An ugly thought: "...but you =are= going to
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have 'The Bomb' soon, right?"
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Scowl. "The college boys say it'll be another six months, at
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least... I say we might need it before then!"
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"You... =need= 'The Bomb'...?"
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"Boy. Look down there... What do you see?"
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"I see a dozen men who look like they'd have more fun playing
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softball..."
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Scowl. "Well, =I= see a gang of perverts who want to kidnap my kids!"
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"...yes. There's that, too... But 'The Bomb'?"
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"Look around you, boy! It's not just them! The whole =world= is going
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up in flames!"
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Unsummoned, an idea from a book came crashing in on me: what is it
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they're all expecting?; what forms this mixture, conviction of doom, feigned
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desire for magical salvation, and, imperceptibly, the vague taste of a
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more furtive hope... Another unanswered question: If the discovery of Aristotle
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stimulated the spread of civilization, has his burial stimulated its retreat?
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"...why not just nuke yourselves...?"
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"How's that?"
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"...nothing."
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"Well," the Good Ol' Boy chawed, "what I say is: it's better to have a
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bomb and not need it than to need a bomb and not have it!" He aimed, then fired
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another spit missile. "Hee, hee! Yahoo!!"
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=Willie!=
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<-<
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# #
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# @ @ #
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*# ( ) #!
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! #"# !
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##^##
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###
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G2:
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The Art of Failing
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Americans have a problem. They succeed too damn much! We have forgotten
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how to fail and how to do it with grace and style. People fail miserably at
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almost everything everyday (I myself fail to fly on a daily basis, despite much
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arm-flapping to the contrary) but they don't do it with class or respect for
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this great tradition of human shortcomings they are part of.
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The British understand the entertainment value and exquisite quality of
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being a failure. A Britisher named Stephen Pile founded the Not-Terribly-Good
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Club of Great Britain in 1976. The sole qualification for joining was being bad
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at something and the primary activities were demonstrating just how bad you are
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at something (now why didn't BBSers think of this?). Typical of the British to
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take their weaknesses and turn them into strengths.
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Mr. Pile went so far as to write a book called, "The Book of Heroic
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Failures" (from which you will see much more). This book amounts to a catalog
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of walking human disasters, mostly Brits. But, as Pile says, "...on inumerable
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occassions in this volume the fine citizens of U.S.A. have triumphantly cast
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off their celebrated success ethic and made a genuine contribution to our
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subject. Given their tremendous natural talents and resources, there is no
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reason why this pioneering country should not lead this field in time."
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Exactly!
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The first thing we do is organize our own Not-Terribly-Good Club of St.
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Louis. Being failures, we couldn't possibly be original enough to come up with
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our own name... Now, for inspiration, I'd like to provide a wonderful example
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of failing: In 1947, as part of training, the British destroyer H.M.S. SAINTES
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was supposed to fire at a target towed by the tug BUCCANEER, a typical naval
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exercise. Showing tremendous accuracy, SAINTES fired only one shot. BUCCANEER,
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of course, sank quite quickly.
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The Australians have done their part too, in 1803, when they proved that
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justice is not only blind but accident-prone as well. They made three attempts
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to execute a Joseph Samuels. Twice the rope snapped. On the third attempt the
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rope was strong enough...apparently so was Mr. Samuels' neck. As Pile puts
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it,"...Mr. Samuels just hung there peacefully until he and everyone else got
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bored. Since he proved unsusceptible to capital punishment, he was reprieved."
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Or this more recent, exciting example: In Dec. 1971, an Uruguyan Field
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Marshall called a fellow general "a socialist." The question was "settled"
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honorably with a duel. These two gallant soldiers managed to fire 37 rounds at
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each other at a distance of only 25 paces. Neither man got a scratch!
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These incredible accomplishments are just a sampling of the awesome
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capabilities of man to fail in utterly amazing ways. With all due respect to
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these noble failures, I think BBSers can do far worse. I will soon be
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establishing a subboard towards proving this. And, remember the example of the
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man who hijacked a plane and demanded to be taken to Detroit. The stewardess
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told him, "We're already gong to Detroit." He said, "Oh...good." He sat down
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and tried to look casual. Jolly Good.
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-THE KID
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G2:
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Sorry, your time on the system is up.
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+++
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YOU ARE ENTERING ANOTHER PERIOD OF
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TIME. THAT OF ANCIENT ROME AND EARLY
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ROADS. A CHARIOT RUMBLES PAST YOU AS
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YOU NOTICE AHEAD OF YOU A GREAT ARENA,
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THAT YOU FAIN
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G2:
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G2:1
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PHANTASIE SPELLS
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--------- ------
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BY
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--
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SEVERIAN OF NESSUS
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-------- -- ------
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1 - HEALING 1 2 - HEALING 2
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3 - HEALING 3 4 - HEALING 4
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5 - FIRE FLASH 1 6 - FIRE FLASH 2
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7 - FIRE FLASH 3 8 - FIRE FLASH 4
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9 - QUICKNESS 1 10 - QUICKNESS 2
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11 - QUICKNESS 3 12 - QUICKNESS 4
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13 - STRENGTH 1 14 - STRENGTH 2
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15 - STRENGTH 3 16 - STRENGTH 4
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17 - PROTECTION 1 18 - PROTECTION 2
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19 - PROTECTION 3 20 - PROTECTION 4
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21 - CONFUSION 1 22 - CONFUSION 2
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23 - CONFUSION 3 24 - CONFUSION 4
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25 - WEAKNESS 1 26 - WEAKNESS 2
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27 - WEAKNESS 3 28 - WEAKNESS 4
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29 - BINDING 1 30 - BINDING 2
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31 - BINDING 3 32 - BINDING 4
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33 - MIND BLAST 1 34 - MIND BLAST 2
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35 - MIND BLAST 3 36 - MIND BLAST 4
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37 - FLAME BOLT 1 38 - FLAME BOLT 2
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39 - FLAME BOLT 3 40 - FLAME BOLT 4
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41 - CHARM 42 - SLEEP
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43 - TELEPORT 44 - RESURECT
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45 - NINJA II 46 - SEAR
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47 - DISSOLVE 48 - SUMMON ELEMETAL
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49 - DISPEL UNDEAD 50 - NINJA I
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51 - AWAKEN 52 - MONSTER EVALUATE
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53 - VISION 54 - TRANSPORTATION
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G2:
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G-File library: Hacking
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##3
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**/***************************************/**
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**/** BASICS OF HACKING I: DECS'S **/**
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**/***************************************/**
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WELCOME TO BASICS OF HACKING I: DEC'S
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G2:
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G2:
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