222 lines
13 KiB
Plaintext
222 lines
13 KiB
Plaintext
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$ $$ $$$ $ $ $$ $ $$$$
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$
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.oO[Issue #8]Oo.
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.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oO
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Contents
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~~~~~~~~
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[1] Kodez? Kodez for me?
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[2] The History Of Phreaking by RedBoxChiliPepper/PLA
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[3] Gothic Horror! Funky Beats!
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File List
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~~~~~~~~~
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acfind .irc Area Code Finder IRC Script
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enochian.dic Enochian Password Dictionary
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delphoto.gif Acidflux, Hamburglar & Deadlocke
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desperdo.tar Desperado Cracker
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E-Mail Address - delirium@cyberspace.org
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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-+Dist Sites+-
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BBS Terminal Drift (510)743-0603
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BBS Whombat Communications (512)883-7543
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BBS Independent Nation (315)656-4179
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BBS The Land Of Rape And Honey (408)883-9535
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BBS Underworld 1995 (514)683-1894
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FTP EnCee's Text Archive ftp.biohazard.com
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WWW Delirium Webpage http://www.compumedia.com/~jnoonan
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.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oO
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You've hacked into a foreign system, root starts paging you, you jump
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into chat, he starts talking in a foreign language you don't understand and
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you've got nothing witty to say! What do you do? Well just for those situations
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we've compiled a list of international translations for the phrase "I call
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from Sweden you have kodez for me?".
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English: I call from Sweden you have kodez for me?
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German: Ich rufe von Schweden an; Haben Sie die code fuer mich?
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Slovenian: Klicem iz Sweden, imas kode zame?
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Finnish: Soitan ruotsista, olisiko sinulla koodeja minulle?
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French: je telphone de la Suede, avez-vous des je sais pas codes pour moi?
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Italian: Chiamo dalla Svezia avete carte telefoniche per me???
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Hebrew: Ani Mitkasher Msweden, Yesh Lach kodim Beshvily?
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Spanish: Llamo de Suecia, tienes algunas claves para mi?
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Swedish: jag ringer fran Sverige - du hade koder till mig?
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Mockswedish: I cell frum Svedee yuoo hefe-a kudez fur me-a? Bork Bork Bork!
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.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oO
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Every real phreaker in the scene knows his history so here's a brief summary of
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how it all began and how it's progressed through the years... In the begining,
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there was one phreak who started it all. His name was Bob and every phreak in
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the world could eventually trace their origins to Bob. Bob, born in Tribune,
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Kansas, was a homeless man who was rummaging through a dumpster by the phone
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company building looking for the night's supper and some alluminum cans (Bob
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was an earth-conscience wino) when he came across a large blue manual labeled
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"Southwestern Bell's Blue Manual of Phone Company Tones E911 That Ordinary
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Citizens Should Never Never Never Ever Never Have Access To!" Gee, thought Bob,
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I could use this very large manual tonight to cover myself up with while I
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sleep on the park bench.
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That night, while having a little trouble sleeping (Bob had a bad case of
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insomnia), Bob began to read this manual and began to think about all he'd
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found and the next morning, sitting on the City Hall's steps used a Campbell's
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soup can, some string and various other electronic parts and assembled the
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world's first "Blue Box." With it, Bob was able to call anywhere on the block
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by using his blue box to mimick the phone company's own tones. Later that
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winter he met a man named John Draper who was in town for an anti-smoking
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conference who discovered that with a simple modification, Bob's blue box
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could call any-where in the world.
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A year later, in 1978, a lot had happened to John Draper. One morning he was
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looking around in the kitchen for his Frosted Flakes and was pissed when he
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found out that his room mate had eaten them all so he had to settle for Froot
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Loops instead. He ate four bowls so he could finally get to the bottom of the
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box to get the toy surprise, which was a plastic dildo for kids! After playing
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with the dildo for several hours, he found that when he blew into the end of
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it, he would hear a sound very close to 26,000,000 Htz, the same tone that his
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blue box made to control the phone company! John immediately adopted the handle
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Capt'n Crunch to throw the feds off and set out to Kroger's to buy out their
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entire suppy of Froot Loops.
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Eventually, word spread about the blue boxes and many other boxes began to
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be built by "phone phreaks", each one serving a different form of phone fraud.
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One of the more well known phreaks was a man named Joe Engressia, a deaf man
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who lived in Tennessee. He was eventually able to cause the pay phones in his
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college to give out free calls to the other students by whistling country songs
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into the phones. He found that when he whistled anything by Wayne Newton he
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could get a free call but since he was deaf, he had to get a friend to talk on
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the phone to whoever he reached for him. Joe was finally busted in the early
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eighties and sentenced to death in the state of Florida.
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In 1983 the controversial movie, War Games came out and gave birth to a new
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generation of computer hackers and phone phreaks. Starring Tom Cruise as a
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teen-age hacker, this movie told the story of a kid who came close to starting
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Operation Dessert Storm when he used his computer to call up the library and
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erase his outstanding overdue book late fees.
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In 1986, Erik Bloodaxe and Gail Thatckery started a publication called
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Phrack, which was run out of Erik's garage on his Timex Sinclair 1000 computer. Phrack
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continued to be the nation's leading hacker magazine until an investigator for
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Pacific Bell ate beans for supper and bought a 14.4 Hayes Accura modem and
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Phrack was shut down until the controversial E*32 article was found to have
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actually been written by Steve Jackson who ran a super-underground bbs called
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P-80 Systems.
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Today the scene is still alive and kicking. Hacker Kevin Mitnick was located
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and arrested for writing anarchy files detailing how to crash airplanes into
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the White House and how to make Drain-o bombs and Wal-Mart continues to give
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full money-back refunds to people who give them modem casings full of crushed
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Pepsi cans. No one has heard from Bob for over twenty years now.
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.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oO
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written by Eric Oehler
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http://dax.cs.wisc.edu/~wonko
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+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
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A tale of gothic horror!
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A tale of funky beats!
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Ned Kirby's
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FRANKENSTEIN
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The ship plowed onward into the night. Icy winds beat at the faces of
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the haggard crew.
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"The crew speaks of mutiny, sir!" exclaimed the first mate. "They
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think we'll never find a passage to Minneapolis, that this is a fool's
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mission."
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"No! We must continue!" I cried. "The best clubs in the Midwest
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lie there! We must continue!"
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At that moment a strange, shrill noise rang through the biting
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air. Cries of "demon!" and "monster" rang from the crew. I reassured
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them, that it was merely a Daniel Ash guitar solo. But the fears
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remained, for we knew not where such a sound was coming from. Then, a
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lone figure was seen on the horizon, limping dazedly accross the frozen
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ice fields. I could not believe my eyes! A man, here, in the wastelands
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of ice! We approached him and brought the exhausted person aboard. The
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man was short, wrapped in a tattered supa-phat(tm) black tshirt, baggy
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purple pants, a floppy-brimmed hat and a trenchcoat that was even larger
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than his shirt. His strange adornments meant one thing to me: I knew
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that this man was the famous Ned, DJ of great repute.
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"Why do we find you on the frozen wastes?" I asked excitedly.
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Perhaps this was clue in my quest for an oversea route to the Cities!
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"Who the fuck are you and why do you want to know?" This
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response did not offend me, I had expected nothing less from the famous Ned.
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"I am a sea captain, searching for a route to the Cities! I want
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mankind to remember my name forever!" I replied.
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"I'll tell you about fame, man. It sucks! I tried to make
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myself famous..well...more famous, anyway, and it my whole plan
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completely crashed. That's why I'm here. I must destroy my creation."
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He began to tell his dreadful tale...
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"I was a DJ, like my friends and some of their friends before
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them. But I wanted more. I wanted to be the DJ to end all DJs. Or
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better: I wanted to be the creator of the DJ to end all DJs. I had spent
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my childhood studying the arcane; Albertus Magnus, Dennis Ritchie,
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Pythagoras, Karl Bartos. My knowledge was unsurpassed in many areas. I
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wanted to use my knowledge to better mankind, or at least better the DJ
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industry.
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"I worked for weeks, driving myself to exhaustion, robbing
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graves, building components, sewing parts, dyeing hair, matching beats.
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I was building the perfect industrial/gothic DJ. Some of my more
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gothic groupies thought the body parts strewn around my apartment were
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hopelessly cool. God, they were all such posers. But despite their
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adoration I worked, and one night it all came together.
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"'It's alive! It's alive! And it's funky!' I cried. The beast
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had risen from its dais and immediately walked to my 1200s. Within
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seconds it was beatmatching. And I'm not talking 'Welcome to Paradise'
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mixing into anything...I mean Das Ich into FLA and other really weird
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matches. But a feeling of fear overtook me. This bastard would put me
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out of a job, and I'd be stuck working at Perkins in Madison again.
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Shit. I cast it out into the snow, hoping never to see it again, hoping
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it would just go and fucking rot someplace. It looked at me with pure
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hatred before it vanished, and spoke. 'I will be with you on gothic night.'
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"Ok, so that was a little freaky. But I really never figured I'd
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see it again. Sure it could spin, but it was the butt-ugliest thing I'd
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ever seen. It'd never get a job. I mean, hey, it was uglier than Ogre
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and as lumpy as every member of Pigface in a burlap bag. Fuck. It
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couldn't get a job if it needed one. "
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"So, Saturday night rolls around, and I'm spinning all my
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favorites. Throw some Foetus in for novelty, a little Fields of the
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Nephilim for robustness, the required Sisters songs to keep the goths
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from leaving. All of a sudden this bastard breaks into my booth, takes
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over my 1200s and starts spinning some fucking polka. People run
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screaming from the dance floor. Total chaos. I try to grapple and get
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my turntables back, but he's too damn big and manages, while fighting me,
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to mix into an Erasure song. Goths are going into convulsions. Complete
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utter nightmare. Bwah! I swear I'm going to lose my job for that.
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"The place is completely empty, and I ask him what the fuck he
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thinks he's doing. 'I have come for my vengeance. You have forsaken
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me. I am a DJ!' he says.
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"'I've played Download in a club, man!' I yell back.
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"'Oh shut up.' he retorted. He paused. 'My vengeance is
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complete. I'm outta here."
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"Ever since then I have hunted this beast, for no other reason
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that I think he took my limited Front242 'Animals' Promo 12"."
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He glanced at his watch. "Shit. I'm late for my shift at
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Perkins." He jumped ship and ran off into the night.
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I looked down at my crew. "Minneapolis is too weird. Let's go
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home." We turned our ship around, and sailed for home.
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.oO[ End Of Transmission ]Oo.
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