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672 lines
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____________________________________________________________________________
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*****NUMBERS 161 TO 165***********BY DANIEL BOWEN (tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu)*****
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"Continental Toxic Custard"
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161 161 161 1 161 1 161 161
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the 161st edition of1the Toxic Custard6Workshop Files 161
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161 161 6 161 1 6 1 161
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161 161 161 1 1 161 161
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And now here is the news.
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The Prime Minister, Mr Paul Keating was severely embarrassed by the
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admission yesterday that he had wet his pants during the previous
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week's session of parliament. Mr Keating attempted to divert the
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questioning of persistent journalists by trying to remind them of
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Opposition Leader John Hewson's loud trumpeting fart last month, but
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to no avail.
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A spokesman for the Continence Alliance denounced the Prime
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Minister's danglies, declaring that any self-respecting leader of
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this country should have an iron-clad bladder. He also said it was
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probably just a publicity stunt to coincide with Continence Week
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(it's this week folks, I'm not kidding!), and described Mr Keating as
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a political "wet".
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
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___
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________________________/ / "The Spirit
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/## # # # # # #CustardAir/ of Custard"
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\__________\ \__________/
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\___\
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Fly CUSTARD Airlines to all the major cities of the world! (Like
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Dubbo, Broken Hill, and even Bendigo!) Our LUXURY cabin service
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includes a free tissue with every fifth passenger. Every passenger
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gets a FREE set of headphones(*). And our unique SELF-SERVICE
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approach to snacks and refreshments and parachutes ensures that you
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SAVE, because we don't have to pay for someone to stand at the front
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of the plane rabbiting on about those safety procedures that you'll
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forget in the panic of a real emergency.
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Speaking of which, by flying CUSTARD Airlines, you can be assured
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that we have some of the best safety procedures in the world, mainly
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because we get to practice them so much. And in the rare event of an
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imminent unexpected zero altitude arrival in a descending mode
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situation, all CUSTARD Airline passengers will benefit from our ALL
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NEW "You'll Never Know" policy of in-flight announcements.
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So the next time you go to the airport to fly into the sunset,
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fly CUSTARD Airlines, and wave your family goodbye!
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(*) Return to staff after flight. Movies/music cost additional fee.
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
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I'm panicking more now than a type-setter who has got an Ikea
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catalogue to print and has entirely run out of umlauts. So we cross
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once again to the Oppression Olympics where Martin Sprot is about to
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compete in the final of the 100 Metres Suspect Submission Sprint. A
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little later will be the semi-final of the 400 Metres Bollocks
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Kicking Relay, and the first heats of the Water Torture Diving
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events. And of course, the Javelin has to be seen to be believed,
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although the shooting events are fairly predictable...
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
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Ah, so you're reading this crap again, are you? What a sad loathsome
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lump of a human being you are. Just think of all the things you could
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be doing right now if you weren't subjecting your eyeballs to this
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garbage.
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All the things I'd like to do
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Like walking in the park or in the zoo
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Or listening to a new song by U2
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Rather than read this Custard.
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I'd rather read an intelligent book
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Or give that new TV show a look
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Come to that, I'd rather cook
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Than read my Toxic Custard.
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Better to go out spraying walls
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Or rowing over big waterfalls
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Measuring Michaelangelo's David's balls
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Much better than Toxic Custard.
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Queue up for tickets to see Megadeath
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Or eat lots and lots, get garlic breath
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I'd rather lie on benches and get drunk on Meths
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Than to read my Toxic Custard
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I'd prefer to watch reruns of Neighbours
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Or get sick on Baskin Robbins 31 flavours
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Or even publicly hail L. Ron as saviour
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It's better than reading Custard
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Rather clean out wild pigs muck
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Watch some musical that really sucks
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Because all in all I could not give a fuck
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For reading any more Toxic Custard
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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That's probably an excellent time to
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abruptly end this edition of Toxic
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Custard. 'Night. Oh, but before I go,
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can I just mention that back-issues
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from the "golden" age of TCWF are
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still available by ftp? Mail here for
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details. Where's here? Well, try
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pointing your mailer towards
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tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu I hope you
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recognise a blatant plug and line
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padding bit when you see it.
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Copyright (c) 1993 Daniel Bowen I
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-- t
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Daniel Bowen, NTC Systems------|\ /\ /\ /\ seemed /\
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Telecom Australia, Melbourne---| \ / \ / \ / \ /like a / \
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dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au-| \ / \ / \ / good idea\at/ \ /
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TCWF stuff: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu| \/ \/ \/ \/ the time \/
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------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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"Retrospective Toxic Custard"
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/\/\/ /\/\/ \ \ /\/\/ \ \ \/\/\ Toxic Custard
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\ \ / / \ / / / Workshop Files
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/ / \ / \ /\/\ \ \/\/ \/\/\
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\ \ / \ / \ / / \ / Number 162 - 23/8/93
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/ /\/\ \/\/\/\ / \ \/\/ \/\/\ by Daniel Bowen
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Toxic Custard was three years old on the twelfth of this month, and
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tonight, we flash back to those early days of August 1990, and take a
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(slightly less topical than it could have been) look at how TCWF was
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born.
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"THE MAKING OF TOXIC CUSTARD"
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[File footage of crumbling, flooded corridor in F Block, Monash Uni
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Caulfield]
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DENNIS: Good evening. I'm Dennis Monkeygland. It was here, in the
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shallowed halls of Monash University, that Toxic Custard as we know
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it, was born. But where and why was it actually written? And how did
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it get its wacky, zany off-the-wall Pythonesque-type name? Tonight,
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we'll take you back to the earliest days of Toxic Custard, and reveal
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how TCWF was created.
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DANIEL: Well, back in them days of '90, I was in the second year of
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my course, a Bachelor of Pretending Cobol Is Structured, failing
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Photocopying 215, and me and me mates had just discovered the
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Internet. We suddenly realised that there was more to computer
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networks than just using Phone and Talk to annoy people in the next
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room, or sending Mail to tell people to meet you for lunch and Tetris
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at the corner shop.
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DENNIS: So how did the concept for TCWF come about?
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DANIEL: I was messing around with my mate Bw.. err Brian Smith. Hi
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Brian, if you're reading. And another pal of ours, Ray Chan, who was
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in an Electronics, Robotics And Other High-Tech Stuff course, came up
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with an idea for an electronic magazine, called "The Serial Saga". Hi
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Ray, if you're reading. We thought this was great, and immediately
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mugged him in the corridor and stole his idea. Ray never actually
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wrote anything, but did manage to create a monster robot which went
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berserk the next semester, and killed 5 lecturers due to a faulty
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diode in its corduroy detection circuits.
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DENNIS: So TCWF was born. Or perhaps hatched.
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DANIEL: Yeah, a little TCWF baby was hatched on 12/8/93, and
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immediately set about crapping all over the floor. Bw.. err Brian
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wrote a separate serial called Rocket Roger, about a guy whose name
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was... umm... Roger. At first both came out twice a week, TCWF on
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Mondays and Wednesdays, and RR on Tuesdays and Thursdays. But that
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didn't stop half the known galaxy confusing the two. I put that down
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to lack of intelligence. Now RR comes out about as often as Halley's
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Comet, and TCWF comes out whenever I bloody well feel like it, which
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is about once a week. Usually on a Monday. Around 10pm. Eastern
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Standard time.
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DENNIS: So who thought of the name "Toxic Custard Workshop Files"?
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DANIEL: I guy I knew in high school. Me and my mates Mark Bainbridge
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and David Holicek (Hi guys, if you're reading), were trying to think
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up a name for another aborted project in amateur TV. David thought of
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the phrase "Toxic Custard Workshop" on a number 700 bus on the way
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home in 1988. David went on to reach the very end, and built a Toxic
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Waste Dump for diseased camels, so it was quite prophetic.
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[Footage of old 8-bit computers, rusting and falling to bits under
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the weight of their own keyboards]
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DANIEL: Originally I wrote TCWF on my old BBC computer at home. I
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kept it for sentimental reasons, but let's face it, who the hell uses
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a computer with less than 32Kb of RAM these days? Anyway, in those
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days it was sent up to the Uni mainframe by 300 baud modem. Those
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were the days... Shit, I just remembered, I still do that, since my
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2400 baud modem fell off the desk.
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DENNIS: How did you find readers?
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DANIEL: Well, originally we hadn't had the idea of posting stuff to
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UseNet News. So I just sent it to people around the campus who wanted
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it. As well as anyone else whose username we happened to stumble
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across. We bailed people up in the corridors and demanded "Username
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or your life!" Of course, by getting mailed TCWF and Rocket Roger,
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they lost both. A couple of them got angry, in fact two unhappy
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Rocket Roger readers attacked Brian one day with a spare keyboard
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someone left lying around. Rammed the DIN plug right up his nose. I
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think some of it's still up there.
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DENNIS: So how many people read the first issues?
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DANIEL: Seven people read the first ever issue, which was pretty
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pathetic. We started a little "subscription war" of sorts, though
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TCWF and RR plugged each other regularly. The numbers of both
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increased steadily every week, and today, TCWF is read by more than
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ten people, and an estimated 37 on News.
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DENNIS: So over the years, what's changed?
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DANIEL: Oh, not very much. Umm... my alias; the sideways messages
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came and went; linked stories of the early issues; switching to a
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"real" mailing list; very late News postings; mailing on Mondays
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instead of Sundays; updates to the ftp sites, 'cos everyone
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responsible seems to have changed jobs or disappeared mysteriously;
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the almost-demise of TCWF at issue 50; TCWF's inclusion in the Freaks
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Anonymous list, which has resulted in loads of Freaks Anonymous
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people mailing me saying "why are you sending me this shit"; excerpts
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in the Naked Wasp student newspaper; an unbroadcast tape made for
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Monash Uni radio; an excerpt in the National Telemarketer magazine at
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work (Hi Wes, if you're reading); editing on a PC rather than the
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Beeb; occasional inclusion of GIF cartoons...
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DENNIS: Errr thank you.
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DANIEL: Usenet-type signatures; bothering to bung a copyright on the
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end...
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DENNIS: Shut up!
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DANIEL: Well you did ask.
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DENNIS: Err, and finally, what have been your favourite bits out of
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Toxic Custard?
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DANIEL: The first Shakespeare parody (#19); the Fascist Fuckwits'
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Federation (#48), which one twerp actually publicly attacked as being
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racist; God's database (#61); the appearance of Irene Busybody (#72);
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the Popsicle "Phoenix" take-off; Bowen NURK Power (#96) and the
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Cosmo/Cleo wars of #125.
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DENNIS: Is that all?
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DANIEL: Well, all that I can think of for the moment.
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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It is your privilege to have been reading
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Toxic Custard #162. And normally most people
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would expect to pay for the privilege. You
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have - but you just don't know it yet. Some
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back-issues are available by ftp; reply, or
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send mail to tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu for details.
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Copyright (c) 1993 Daniel Bowen
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--
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Daniel Bowen, NTC Systems------| Next week... well, something
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Telecom Australia, Melbourne---| a little less self-
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dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au-| indulgent, at the very
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TCWF stuff: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu| least.
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------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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"Aging Toxic Custard"
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Speaking as a member of the dominant species on the planet, I am
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proud to lay down my fingers in honour of the dominant humorous
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computerised newsletter of your screen of the moment, that most
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shunned of electronic journals, the very humble and dare I say it
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(yes, I dare), superfluous,
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T O X I C |||| ||| |||||||||||
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C U S T A R ||| D || |||
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W O R K S H ||| O ||||||P||| |||||||||||
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F I L E S ||| ||| ||| ||||
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3 0 t h A u ||| g ||||||u||| ||s|||||||| t || || || ||
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Old people have been depressing me lately. You've seen them,
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tottering onto the tram waving their 60 Plus cards and holding the
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rest of us up. It's almost enough to make you run up to them and
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scream "you're gonna die before me! Hahahaha!!"
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And if you're of the male persuasion, you'll have noticed how
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grandparents always send birthday cards that have captions like "For
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You, Grandson", and have pictures of flowing waterfalls, or antique
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motor cars. It's like an entire generation of people out there on the
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planet that haven't heard of Gary Larson or Purple Ronnie. Very sad.
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Of course, you can get rid of old people by shipping them off to
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the infamous Bingo Camps. For a very reasonable fee, a gang will come
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and kidnap your grandparents, tie them up, and take them away to a
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Bingo camp, where they will be mercilessly tortured with games of
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Bingo, Andrew Lloyd-Webber soundtracks, Dorothy L Sayers stories, and
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episodes of The Good Old Days. Some Bingo Camp prisoners are even
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taken overseas, or split into special interest groups, where the
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rules of Bingo tend to vary slightly. Instead of shouting "Bingo!"
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when you have all the numbers, the following silly exclamations
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apply:
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- in Mexico: "Gringo!"
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- in Australia: "Dingo!"
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- in Liverpool, England: "Ringo!"
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- for the chauvinists: "Jingo!"
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- for language experts: "Lingo!"
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- alcoholics: "Stingo!"
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- bird watchers: "Flamingo!"
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- botanists: "Eryngo!"
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and possibly the dodgiest one of the lot,
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- in the Dominican Republic: "Santo Domingo!"
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[I can see this Rhyming Dictionary is going to come in very handy]
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
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TOXIC TALES - "Kaga, the Unfortunate Rabbit"
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Once upon a time, in a field quite nearby to the enchanted forest
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that crops up in every bloody fairy tale, there lived a little
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rabbit, called Kaga. He was called that because that's what the label
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says on the monitor next to this one. See? Over there ------------>
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Kaga was a very furry rabbit, and had a happy time with all his
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friends in the field, including his bestest ever buddy, Sally
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Fieldmouse. Unfortunately though, Kaga had one little problem, which
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involved personal hygiene. (I won't pretend I know how to spell the
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word hygiene at this time of night, but I'll let the spelling checker
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work it out. Now I've said that, the spelling looks right. Tell you
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what, bet you $5 it's okay. I'll give you the result at the end of
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the story.)
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Kaga's little problem was of under-paw smells, and was
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complicated by the fact that they don't make Rexona for rabbits. And
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so it was that after a hard day of doing what rabbits do best -
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eating grass and lettuce - Kaga tended to arrive home at the burrow
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feeling very smelly, and, in all honesty, quite sodden with sweat.
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Sally Fieldmouse suggested that Kaga bathe himself in the nearby
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water more regularly than the twice a month that he tended to. She
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also offered other solutions, including detergent, alcohol, and a
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rather nasty acid that grumpy Farmer Nitrate had left a canister of
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nearby.
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But Kaga was determined to remain sweaty and filthy, as he was
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hoping for a spot in the next Hare Yakka ad.
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And that's how this story ends - at a stalemate, with no positive
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conclusion. Hmm.
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The End
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And the moral of the story is: Don't expect
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a decent ending when the author is tired
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and just wants to get to bed.
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PS. Hygiene was right.
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
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I was walking up the street today, and saw a van pull up outside
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KFC. And a guy got out, and started carrying cardboard boxes inside.
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And on the cardboard boxes it said "KFC Fresh Salad". Hmmm.
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Which makes me wonder(*). If you eat food that's about to expire,
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doesn't that mean it goes off while it's inside your body? Maybe
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perishable food should include a "digest by" date?
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Next week I'm going to see that new movie about the prehistoric
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butcher: Jurassic Pork.
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(*) Actually, it didn't make me wonder,
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but it's a convenient link.
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
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There are many things I sometimes wonder
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Like why there's so much noise with thunder
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Why the garbos scatter the bins
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And are there cars for Siamese twins
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I wonder why greeting cards cost three bucks
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Why only smart-arses get the dux
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Why people at parties arrive late
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Why fish don't realise worms are bait
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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I also wonder why we've reached
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the end of another Toxic Custard.
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Because we have, that's why.
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Copyright (c) 1993 Daniel Bowen
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--
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Daniel Bowen, NTC Systems------| I'm an Aussie boy
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Telecom Australia, Melbourne---| I was brought up wrong
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dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au-| Hear me belching
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TCWF stuff: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu| And wear my thongs
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------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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"Satanistic Toxic Custard"
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Toxic CustarD workShop fIles -\ / | \ W N A B
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tOxic cUstaRd worKsHop FiLes \ |___ |__\_ R E D N O
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toXiC cuStArd WoRkshOp filEs \ \ \ \ I T B I L W N
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toxIc cusTard wOrkshoP fileS \ \__| \ T Y E E
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-/-/-/-\-\-\-/-/-/-\-\-\-\-\-\-/-/-/-/-/-/-\-\-\-\-\-/-/-/-/-\-/-/-\--\-
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- Excuse me, can you give me directions?
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Certainly. Empty contents of sachet, half into a large cup, and half
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all over your knees. Pour cold water into cup (and on your knees),
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before striking a match and setting fire to the stove. Crack eggs and
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place yolks and shells in a bowl, before mixing with contents of the
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cup and dropping in a Lego block. Bang head on cupboard getting out
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spoon, and catch sleeve in stove flame. Collapse in pain, pulling
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bowl and contents over your head and fall to floor.
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
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As I sit here in the wasteland that is the computer/spare room, I
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ponder the world around me. What a mess. The room I mean. This proves
|
|
how uninspired I am at the moment. The sheer drudgery of just looking
|
|
through the bookshelf, reading all the old ten year old computer
|
|
books on the shelf that's at eye-level. Pretty sad, eh?
|
|
|
|
DANIEL'S GUIDE TO OPENING THE DOOR
|
|
|
|
We've all been in that situation, haven't we. The door knocks,
|
|
and you suspect there might be someone outside making all the noise.
|
|
The key thing to do is BEWARE. In fact, the absolute best thing you
|
|
can do at this point is simply to ignore the knocking, and hope that
|
|
eventually it will go away. The may be a rather unsociable way to
|
|
deal with things, but then, so is screaming in people's faces when
|
|
they're trying to take a leak.
|
|
For some people, ignoring the problem of knocking doors may not
|
|
be sufficient. For one thing, the person at your door could be one of
|
|
those types who will continue knocking for some hours, which, even if
|
|
it's not annoying, will most certainly take some of the shine off
|
|
your door. At this point, it is often advantageous to have a "peek
|
|
hole" in your door. This is a marvellous device that enables you to
|
|
peek at whoever's attacking your door, without letting them know that
|
|
you're actually checking them out from behind your door, deciding
|
|
whether or not to let them in. I recommend getting a peek hole for
|
|
your door. Though if you're only bothering to read this guide now
|
|
that there's someone knocking at your door, it may be too late.
|
|
So, if possible, perform a "peek" security check to see which
|
|
door knocker category the knocker falls into, and thence behave
|
|
appropriately:
|
|
|
|
THE BAD DOOR KNOCKERS:
|
|
* Neighbour wanting to borrow sugar - Ignore/pretend you're not home,
|
|
until they give up and go and see another neighbour, who
|
|
hopefully won't be as selfish and nasty as you
|
|
* Masked knife-wielding maniac - Shout very loudly that you're going
|
|
to call the Police and get out your grandfather's shotgun that he
|
|
killed a battalion of Germans with during the war
|
|
* In-law of any description - (see previous)
|
|
* Jehovah's Witnesses, Mormons, or other religious CULTs - Answer the
|
|
door wearing a satanic mask, edging the door just open enough to
|
|
let them see the flames and pentangle that you've drawn on the
|
|
livingroom floor in chalk. And who says you're just having a
|
|
little joke?
|
|
|
|
THE GOOD DOOR KNOCKERS:
|
|
* Neighbour wanting to return sugar - Open the door, take the sugar,
|
|
and slam it in their face before they can open their mouths to
|
|
borrow something else
|
|
* Expected friend/s with an appointment and positive identification -
|
|
Shine spotlight, check ID, let in, frisk then invite into the
|
|
other room for a seat and a drink. And don't take your eyes off
|
|
them for a minute.
|
|
* Man from Tattslotto - Check ID, check you actually *entered* Tatts
|
|
this week, invite into the other room for a seat and a drink, and
|
|
demand the money. And leave the accompanying TV journalists out
|
|
in the cold street. That will annoy them no end.
|
|
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
|
|
|
YOU HAVE REACHED SATAN'S QUESTION LINE. WHAT IS YOUR QUERY?
|
|
|
|
Hi, we're about to have a son, and we'd like him to grow up as a bad
|
|
Satanists just like us. Are there any names that you recommend we
|
|
use?
|
|
|
|
YES... PETER, ANDRE, JASON, DONOVAN, ANDREW, LLOYD...
|
|
|
|
And what do you, as the devil, the evil one, think of KFC?
|
|
|
|
LOVE THAT HOT AND SPICY...
|
|
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
|
|
|
- Excuse me, can you give me directions to the boat shed?
|
|
|
|
Yeah, sure. You go down that street there, to where it turns, but you
|
|
don't turn. You keep walking towards the traffic lights, until you
|
|
see the statue with pigeon crap all over it, and you go around that,
|
|
down the grass verge, jump over the hedge (watch your danglies), then
|
|
run down the hill onto the main road and land under a car and end up
|
|
in hospital. Then you go out of the hospital back entrance, and get
|
|
hit by an ambulance. So then you go out of the front entrance, left
|
|
down the driveway, straight down the street until you get to the
|
|
bridge, where you jump off the middle of the south side, swim to the
|
|
east bank, and you can't miss it.
|
|
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
|
|
|
YOU HAVE REACHED SATAN'S QUESTION LINE. WHAT IS YOUR QUERY?
|
|
|
|
Hi, I'm just ringing to find out if it's okay to kill my grandmother.
|
|
|
|
YES. KILL AS MANY GRANDMOTHERS AS YOU CAN GET YOUR KNIFE INTO.
|
|
|
|
Oh, great. Okay! Bye!
|
|
|
|
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
|
Bye!
|
|
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
|
Copyright (c) 1993 Daniel Bowen
|
|
--
|
|
Daniel Bowen, NTC Systems------| TCWF back-issues are available
|
|
Telecom Australia, Melbourne---| from.. oh hell, if you don't
|
|
dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au-| know by now, I'm not about
|
|
TCWF stuff: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu| to tell you.
|
|
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
"Sponsored Toxic Custard"
|
|
|
|
|
|
TCUDWHOESereper19ityDlBHaonuaotdTAniphit?PlMaItdBeTwIntaleOe
|
|
OCSROSPLNb1Stb1h9rtBaeonsyetlBheoydchTsiIoeeieWlecootsAtWtfm
|
|
XITARKFIum65em3t3WenniweAnAclyerTrDeerShfSaslMouNiKnWaToasTi
|
|
-------------"Don't bother; it's not worth it"--------------
|
|
|
|
There's nothing more necessary than shoes. You can walk down the
|
|
street naked in most weather without undue harm, but you'll be
|
|
regretting it the instant you step on a snail. So we present:
|
|
|
|
DANIEL'S GUIDE TO PUTTING ON YOUR SHOES
|
|
|
|
The first thing to do is to check that you're not an amputee who
|
|
is missing both legs. If so, I'm afraid there won't be much to
|
|
interest you in this section. Unless you're in the habit of placing
|
|
shoes on other appendages, or you have one or more false legs that
|
|
you regularly change the shoes on. This may be the case if sometimes
|
|
you are required to attend formal occasions, and hence to wear formal
|
|
shoes, but other times you wear more casual (false) footwear. On the
|
|
other hand, perhaps you just have different legs for different
|
|
occasions.
|
|
For the rest of us however, one of the most mundane things is
|
|
that tiresome part of getting up when it becomes necessary to place
|
|
our feet into protective compartments for the comparatively simple
|
|
task of walking down the street.
|
|
So, step two (har har) is to find a pair of socks. Depending on
|
|
your outlook on life, your visual abilities, and the state of your
|
|
laundry, these may be matching. Or not. You may encounter some
|
|
difficulty in determining how many of the socks you find are inside-
|
|
out. This will vary between zero and two, and careful inspection in
|
|
association with plenty of light will reveal the true figure. Anyway,
|
|
once you've found two socks, place them carefully on your feet.
|
|
The next thing to do is to determine which shoes you wish to
|
|
wear. Unlike socks, virtually all people ensure that they wear only
|
|
*pairs* of shoes. So while the Sock Matching Confirmation rate is
|
|
only around 79.3%, the Shoe Matching Confirmation rate is up at
|
|
around 99.8%. Which is quite a lot, when you're talking about
|
|
percentages.
|
|
Now comes a tricky bit. You have to untie the shoelaces on your
|
|
shoes that you were too fucking lazy to untie when you last took them
|
|
off. There are a number of possible situations you may be in at this
|
|
point:
|
|
FINGERNAILS: SMALL KNOT IN LACE? SHOE UNTYING STATUS:
|
|
------------ ------------------- --------------------
|
|
Sharp None Great!
|
|
Sharp Yes Tricky, but you'll get it
|
|
Nonexistent None Great!
|
|
Nonexistent Yes Oh shit. Have you considered
|
|
Velcro?
|
|
Remember, if needs be, you can always cut the laces out and get
|
|
them replaced. But you may need to wear thongs on your way down to
|
|
the shoe-lace emporium.
|
|
Once you've got the shoe-laces into their premium untarnished
|
|
untied state, we recommend that you proceed in inserting your feet
|
|
into the shoes. Make use of a shoe-horn if necessary. The shoe-horn
|
|
originated in Athens around 600BC, when it was used as an instrument
|
|
during sandal makers' ceremonies.
|
|
The next step is tricky, and it is to tie the shoe-laces
|
|
together. Enough has been written on this subject to tear down a
|
|
major forest should anyone order a reprint, so here's just a very
|
|
simple summarised method of how to tie your own shoe-laces.
|
|
Lace A comes out of the left-hand side of the shoe, and lace B
|
|
comes out of the right. Pull lace B over lace A in an 'X' formation.
|
|
Loop lace B back under lace A through the gap between laces. Pull
|
|
both laces tight to form the first knot. Stop pulling when you feel
|
|
the blood starting to give up trying to reach your foot. Lace B is
|
|
now where lace A was, just to confuse things. Next take lace A and
|
|
form a small loop between the thumb and forefinger of your right
|
|
hand, using your left thumb to form the loop. Loop lace B around the
|
|
lace A loop, trapping your thumb with it. Then, making a small loop
|
|
in lace B, pull it through the hole between lace A and the first
|
|
knot. Drag it through with your right hand. Oh wait, that was already
|
|
holding the first loop. Maybe the left hand can help. No, that's busy
|
|
maintaining the B loop. If you can get a foot in... no, they're both
|
|
in their stupid shoes. Wait wait wait. Supposing you get a small
|
|
stick that you can loop the laces around, and then... oh sod it, just
|
|
get someone else to do it.
|
|
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
|
|
|
And now, a word from our sponsors.
|
|
|
|
Have YOU ever considered what was missing from your life? Okay, so
|
|
you've got your stereo VCR, your hyperbolic hologrammatic VisuMass
|
|
television, and those nifty MegaDecibel SuperLoud speakers, all ready
|
|
to blast you out of your seat... but have you ever considered
|
|
gardening as a hobby? Gardening is not only therapeutic, it's
|
|
exciting! But who gives a fuck about gardening, you might ask? The
|
|
whole concept of gardening shrivels into insignificance when compared
|
|
to the almighty power of the LORD. For it is He who has given us our
|
|
watering-cans, ride-on lawn-mowers, and those annoying weeds that just
|
|
won't come out no matter how hard you pull. It is the will of the
|
|
LORD that has brought about the existence of Bass Boost buttons. So
|
|
come all ye boys and girls, and congregate now at the Holy Trinity
|
|
Disco of the Lord. Be sure to dress in sensible shoes, and boogie
|
|
your way to the biggest religious music of the A.D period. And when
|
|
you've finished with that, go outside into the adjacent park with
|
|
shotguns and blast the crap out of every living thing you can find.
|
|
Phew, that was scary. I almost went religious on you. That's
|
|
what large quantities of Nut Mix chocolate can do to you.
|
|
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
|
|
|
A few short words about videos: Ever noticed how pamphlets
|
|
advertising VCRs all list the features inside little rounded boxes?
|
|
Curious. Maybe it's some kind of rating system so you know how great
|
|
the VCR is from how many boxes there are.
|
|
And how come video tapes come in "High Standard", "Premium Extra-
|
|
High Grade", and so on... but no "Average Grade" or "Poor Standard"?
|
|
Sometime I really want to find an E180-SG (Shit Grade) so I can
|
|
record programmes I don't like very much onto it.
|
|
|
|
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
|
You probably all know by now that
|
|
some TCWF back-issues are available
|
|
by anonymous ftp. And if you ask,
|
|
I'll even tell you where from!
|
|
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
|
Copyright (c) 1993 Daniel Bowen
|
|
--
|
|
Daniel Bowen, NTC Systems------| "Stormin'" Norman Schwarzhopf has
|
|
Telecom Australia, Melbourne---| introduced to the world his
|
|
dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au-| younger, more timid brother:
|
|
TCWF stuff: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu| "Squirmin'" Herman.
|
|
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
|
|
the Toxic Custard Workshop Files by Daniel Bowen, Melbourne, Australia
|
|
|
|
Copyright (c) 1993, 1994 Daniel Bowen. May be freely distributed
|
|
without profit provided this notice remains intact.
|
|
|
|
For subscription information, contact tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu
|