105 lines
5.8 KiB
Plaintext
105 lines
5.8 KiB
Plaintext
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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #662
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`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8
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888 888 888 888 888 "The Death Of Mogel"
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888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8
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888 888 888 888 888 " by Oregano
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888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 5/31/99
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o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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Mogel sits under a hot Arizona sun. Before him is a calm swimming
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pool, the surface smooth and untouched. No wind ripples it, no swimmers
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splash it.
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Mogel stirs for a moment and as he reaches for his drink -- mostly
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melted ice in a watery iced tea -- he knocks over his bottle of heart pills.
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The plastic pill bottle does not come open but the cylinder rolls off the
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table and away from Mogel. The sky today is blue and once again there are
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no clouds. Mogel makes no motion to pick up his pills, he knows they will
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be there later and he takes a sip of his iced tea, now somewhat warm, the
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top of the drink almost completely water. The lemon slice on the rim
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brushes the side of his nose and makes it sticky.
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Mogel coughs up part of the drink, he wheezes a bit to clear his
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throat, but the iced tea has gone down his windpipe. In a rush to get air
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he reaches out with the glass of iced tea with his left hand, trying to set
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it on the table without looking; at the same time he balls his right hand
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into a fist and coughs into it, trying to dislodge the little bit of iced
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tea. Mogel has gotten old and not everything works the way it used to back
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when he ran the most important ezines in the GloBalNet; back then Mogel had
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real power. The tiny Internet where he first tested his wings was nothing
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compared to his iron fist control of GloBalNet. People feared Mogel. Now
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no one fears him and just taking a sip of iced tea is more trouble than he
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can really handle.
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[-----]
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When the internet was in its heyday Mogel ruled its literary scene.
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All sorts of ezines abounded, many had been started by Mogel then passed on
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to other editors but Mogel had a vision of something larger that could not
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be contained in electronic text. His vision grew so large that the internet
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could not contain it. Mogel created GloBalNet and the world changed
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forever. Often it was said that what Mogel really created was meaning.
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Meaning for all 13 billion people on planet Earth who structured their day
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around editorial content shaped my Mogel himself. He found the best authors
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and gave them a forum well beyond what the most popular internet authors
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had. He shaped the way information was created and distributed, moving
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beyond text, Mogel merged words and sound and moving images until all were
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one constant stream of information that people grew to rely on, eventually
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letting it take over their lives. People were happier, they could find hope
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in the GloBalNet; crime dropped, why steal when you can find the answers to
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all your problems for free and so lovingly; no more hate and racism, the
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information flowed so freely and so full of truth and power that those who
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in the past would have been uneducated now saw the burning light of reason.
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Satisfaction was the order of the day, Mogel found content for everyone no
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matter how grand or how seemingly insignificant they were. Mogel gave and
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gave and his empire reached every household on the planet.
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But things fall apart, centers don't hold, and anarchy was loosed
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upon GloBalNet. Mogel created the world as everyone knew it, but he had
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still larger dreams. He walked away from GloBalNet. Would the world wither
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away?
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Instead of collapsing, the world slumped for a bit but kept running.
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Mogel moved to Arizona to put together his larger plan.
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The world moved on too.
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The warm Arizona air softened Mogel's sharp edges. The clear skies
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proved too empty a canvas to paint his dreams on, no ideas would stick and
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at the end of each day all his thoughts had run off into a pile of mush at
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his feet. Eventually Mogel no longer cared to clean up the mess and he
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stopped letting the thoughts come out.
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[-----]
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Now Mogel sits by the pool whose surface is perfectly still,
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unblemished. The sky above is perfectly clear and the sun beats down on
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Mogel. A large sun umbrella is centered over the table but it does not
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shade him, it was set this morning for an earlier sun, but the sun marched
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forward and now attacks at a different angle leaving Mogel in its full
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glare. The heat is too much and his chest begins to hurt. He reaches
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toward the table, searching for his pills, but only manages to knock over
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his watery iced tea.
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He gets up slowly when he can't find the pills, you can hear the
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strain, like an old machine that needs oiling, all the creeks and groans.
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He is confused for a moment as to why he is standing. Then he looks around
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and sees the pills just ahead of him and he takes a step forward. His
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stride is a little too swift for his slowed mind and his sandal kicks the
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pills forward and they roll into the pool. He bends over to reach the
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bottle as it floats within arms length and he tumbles in, arms flailing: a
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big splash. Phlegm sticks in his throat and his yell is only a gurgle. He
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knows it is too late. These waters which a moment ago were so still now
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rage and storm and grab at Mogel pulling him under.
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After his lungs fill with water. And before all turns forever black.
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Mogel wonders if anyone will care and if anyone will remember all that he
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helped to create.
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[--------------------------------------------------------------------------]
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #662 - WRITTEN BY: OREGANO - 5/31/99 ]
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