737 lines
32 KiB
Plaintext
737 lines
32 KiB
Plaintext
****************************************************************************
|
|
### # # ### ##### ## # # # ## ## # # ### ##### ## ### ###
|
|
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
|
|
# #### ### # # # # # # # # # ## # #### ### # #
|
|
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
|
|
# # # ### # ## # # # ## ## ## ### # # # # # ###
|
|
____________________________________________________________________________
|
|
|
|
# # ### #### # # #### # # ### #### ##### # # ##### ####
|
|
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
|
|
# # # # # #### ### ### ##### # # #### ##### # # ##### ###
|
|
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
|
|
### ### # # # # #### # # ### # # # ##### ##### ####
|
|
*******NUMBERS 216 TO 220*****************************BY DANIEL BOWEN*******
|
|
*****Please note, some of the quoted addresses within this file may no*****
|
|
***longer be correct. Please always use tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu for enquiries***
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Astonishing Toxic Custard"
|
|
|
|
|
|
___//__ /--- //\\ || // . Dear readers, won't you
|
|
// __ //__ // || //__ . please sit back and
|
|
// // \\ // // // || // \\ . enjoy the two hundred
|
|
\\ \\__ \\/\// // //== || \\__// . and sixteenth edition
|
|
by Daniel Bowen 15th September 1994 . of the Toxic Custard
|
|
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Workshop Files.
|
|
|
|
Dear readers,
|
|
It's been what you might call an unusual week for me. Please allow me
|
|
to tell you all about it.
|
|
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
|
|
|
ASTONISHING EVENT #1.
|
|
|
|
I really thought it would never happen. I thought it was the kind of
|
|
thing that only happened on TV shows where the main character was 35
|
|
weeks pregnant. But it really happened to me. Last Wednesday, I was
|
|
trapped in an elevator for a whole half-hour.
|
|
|
|
Someone once said that hell was being locked in a room with your
|
|
friends. Well, that's not quite right... actually hell is being
|
|
trapped with your friends in a lift-sized area, when you don't have
|
|
any heavy weaponry to ensure that they don't shut up.
|
|
|
|
It all began like any other lift journey... you press the button,
|
|
wait for the lift to arrive, then everybody piles in, holding the
|
|
doors open for the last person to arrive. If you time it right, you
|
|
can catch the tail of their jacket in the door as it closes.
|
|
|
|
You press the button for the floor you want, and presto, you're on
|
|
your way. But this time, we weren't on our way. Because this time, we
|
|
had entered *THE DEMON LIFT FROM HELL*!!
|
|
|
|
We should have known. We should have been wary. For years now the
|
|
lifts in that building have had reputations. Reputations of treating
|
|
their passengers like bits of meat chopped up then thrown out because
|
|
of mould. One lift was known to stop between floors... another had,
|
|
it was rumoured, shot six floors straight down a la gravity... and
|
|
the third seemed okay, but occasionally decided to stop on, say,
|
|
level 5, and refuse to go any further down. But we climbed in anyway.
|
|
Happy to be at the end of the working day.
|
|
|
|
We knew things were bad when it went in the wrong direction. We
|
|
wanted Ground, and said so. But the lift mechanism had obviously
|
|
failed, because it spontaneously decided that to get to the Ground
|
|
from the ninth floor, it should go up.
|
|
|
|
And so it lurched into action, catching us all by surprise. It
|
|
surprised us almost as much when 2.7 seconds later, it stopped again,
|
|
displaying "10", the top of the building in question. Perhaps the
|
|
lift was trying to escape? Perhaps it was preparing for a very fast
|
|
descent. But no, it stood still. We paused. We pressed buttons. Every
|
|
button. Every single button. Twice. Well, we'd modified our elevator
|
|
itinerary to visit every floor, but we hadn't actually made any
|
|
progress towards going anywhere.
|
|
|
|
We discussed the options. There seemed to be five possible ones.
|
|
|
|
* Press every button again to see what happened (which we had
|
|
already)
|
|
|
|
* Panic, scream, tear at the walls and doors to escape (which
|
|
although it would have relieved the tension, probably would have got
|
|
us nowhere)
|
|
|
|
* Just sit there and wait. Which was not an option really, when you
|
|
consider it. We all would have missed our trains, for a start. (We
|
|
ended up missing about 3 trains each, actually, but oh well)
|
|
|
|
* Do like they do on spy movies, and open the trap door on the top of
|
|
the lift, climb out and go up the shaft on the rickety ladder to
|
|
safety. With the risk, of course, that the lift would start working
|
|
again while on the ladder, and squash us. Fat chance.
|
|
|
|
* Pick up the very handily placed emergency phone and ring the lift
|
|
maintenance people (Which we eventually concluded was the most
|
|
sensible solution)
|
|
|
|
So, we rang. And we waited. And while we waited, we used our mobile
|
|
phones to call relatives (I'd rather use the word "relatives" than
|
|
"next of kin"). We also called our colleagues, who were still in the
|
|
building, and who were able to have an enormous laugh at our expense.
|
|
"You're not going to believe this... but we're stuck in the lift.
|
|
STOP LAUGHING YOU BASTARDS!!!"
|
|
|
|
Eventually the maintenance people came, and let us out. No-one had
|
|
got pregnant. Nobody had to be eaten to help the others survive. We
|
|
were let out by the heroic lift maintenance guy. Strange thing is, we
|
|
heard him calling, but when the doors finally opened, we couldn't
|
|
actually find him. Did he selflessly plummet down the shaft to gain
|
|
our freedom? Perhaps we'll never know.
|
|
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
|
|
|
ASTONISHING EVENT #2.
|
|
|
|
I found out last Friday that I'm gonna be a dad. My wife Lori is
|
|
pregnant.
|
|
|
|
Okay, so it wasn't *totally* unplanned, but it was still a surprise.
|
|
"What, you mean all that machinery actually works?!" Yep, now I can
|
|
strut around the streets with a deep and steady voice proclaiming
|
|
"*I* am virile! Stand aside citizens, for VirileMan is here! Behold
|
|
my working machinery! Behold my SuperSperm(tm)!"
|
|
|
|
Of course, the immediate reaction was very less macho and
|
|
testosterony. The way the news was relayed around the place basically
|
|
goes a little like this.
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR: "Congratulations" ---> EARS ---> BRAIN ---> JAW (which drops)
|
|
|
|
So, prepare for pregnancy jokes a-plenty. The first of which begins
|
|
here. The hippies say it's good to speak to the growing foetus. So
|
|
we've decided to prepare the kid for life with its parents. We've
|
|
been telling it to "Keep your womb clean."
|
|
|
|
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
|
Well, while you're contemplating the
|
|
horrors of the author of this crap
|
|
actually having offspring, let me tell
|
|
you that the back-issues of TCWF are
|
|
still available by ftp. Email
|
|
tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu for details.
|
|
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
|
Copyright (c) 1994 Daniel Bowen. May be freely distributed without
|
|
profit provided no modifications are made.
|
|
--
|
|
Daniel Bowen, Melbourne, Australia--| This file contains personal
|
|
Work: dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au| opinions only. Telecom neither
|
|
Play: dbowen@gnu.ai.mit.edu---------| wants nor pays for them. Their
|
|
TCWF: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu-----------| profits go elsewhere.
|
|
|
|
Due to an overflow of astonishing events, the Toxic History Of The
|
|
World will return next week. Well, don't sound so disappointed!
|
|
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
"Toxic Tales Of The City"
|
|
|
|
|
|
Ladies and Gentlemen,
|
|
|
|
I feel that it is my duty to apologise most humbly to you for the
|
|
callous way in which you have been inflicted with two copies of Toxic
|
|
Custard intermittently during the past few weeks. Most Human Rights
|
|
organisations demand that not even *one* Toxic Custard is inflicted
|
|
on any one person, and the current oversupply of Toxic Custard is, to
|
|
be honest, awfully distressing to me personally.
|
|
|
|
Let me assure you at this point that action IS being taken. Top
|
|
Custard Investigation Authority operatives are even now performing
|
|
all sorts of horrible torture on the mailing software, and making it
|
|
promise that it won't do it again.
|
|
|
|
217 217 217 TOXIC 19th September 1994 217 217 217
|
|
217 217 217 CUSTARD Written by Daniel Bowen 217 217 217
|
|
217 217 217 WORKSHOP tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu 217 217 217
|
|
217 217 217 FILES(*) Uh oh, what do I put here? 217 217 217
|
|
|
|
(*)No responsibility for
|
|
duplicate deliveries is taken
|
|
by the author, or by anyone
|
|
else, for that matter.
|
|
|
|
Have YOU ever wondered what you're doing here, on this planet? Well,
|
|
reading this, of course. But in the wider view of the universe, I
|
|
mean. No? Well, okay, to be honest, once anyone starts raving on
|
|
about psychological well-being and the meaning of existence, a lot of
|
|
us tend to get very bored. So why don't we talk about desk trinkets
|
|
instead?
|
|
|
|
Who is it that designs desk trinkets? Those various bits of plastic,
|
|
metal, fishing wire, or gooey liquid, all stuck together into some
|
|
weird shape. And it sits on your desk and either gloops, clicks,
|
|
pops, swings, or otherwise moves in just the right way so that your
|
|
eyes latch onto it all day and you can't do any work. Or, if you're
|
|
lucky enough to forget about it, it will catch your eye only when
|
|
you're in the middle of trying to think about a particularly tricky
|
|
problem, scattering your thoughts completely.
|
|
|
|
The people who design these things must be very twisted. You can see
|
|
them sitting at *their* desks, thinking... "How about a kind of
|
|
hourglass timer... yeah... but it's missing something. Ah - got it!
|
|
Instead of sand, what about a kind of weird purple gloopy stuff that
|
|
no-one knows what it is! Yeah! Then it'll gloop through the hole in
|
|
an unpredictable way. And people will keep coming up to whoever's
|
|
desk it is to turn it over and watch in fascination. Yeah!..."
|
|
|
|
Probably the same people design blank videotape covers. "Okay, we
|
|
have a high-tech multicoloured logo on the front... ummm.. some kind
|
|
of impressive-sounding name, like Super High Quality Pro Grade... and
|
|
oh, wait, I know... a completely meaningless quality index number,
|
|
like... 267! Yeah. Oh wait, I almost forgot the comparison graph,
|
|
yep, comparing 267 with say, 143. Yep, it's higher. And of course
|
|
superimpose that with the artist's conceptual diagram of what a
|
|
molecule being struck by lightning looks like. Perfect."
|
|
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
|
|
|
Could I tell you about an exciting BUSINESS OPPORTUNITY that I'd like
|
|
to tell you about? It's all about NETWORKING, and of course, conning
|
|
all your friends into joining (and subsequently losing them all). Did
|
|
you know that I, Daniel Bowen, the founder of Danway Distribution,
|
|
now rake in millions of dollars from gullible idiots err keen people
|
|
with incentive and ambition, like yourselves who join the scam err
|
|
scheme, and pay me lots of royalties? You too could get to the top.
|
|
You could earn a million dollars, and it might only take you a few
|
|
thousand years! It's really just like a huge CHAIN LETTER. Except you
|
|
don't get thrown from a twenty-storey building if you don't join.
|
|
|
|
Pyramid schemes and chain letters have something in common, actually.
|
|
They could be *too* successful. They could reach saturation point.
|
|
Just imagine the horror if they discovered that everyone in the world
|
|
had joined. Disaster! Who would be the new members, the people who
|
|
actually cough up the profit? The pyramid would probably turn into a
|
|
rectangle, or a parallelogram, or something equally unprofitable.
|
|
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
|
|
|
TOXIC HISTORY OF THE WORLD
|
|
Part 14 of about 40,000,000,000 or so
|
|
|
|
324 AD
|
|
Constantine defeats the emperor in the East, becoming sole ruler of
|
|
the Roman world. (That must make him an Imperialist!!!! Get it?!
|
|
Ruler? Imperial?!) With the Roman world united, at last Asterix
|
|
comics reach the eastern half of the empire. Constantine visits
|
|
Byzantium, and proclaims rather clumsily "Ich bin eine
|
|
Byzantiumumer."
|
|
|
|
328
|
|
To celebrate victory, Constantine founds 'New Rome' by enlarging
|
|
the ancient Greek city of Byzantium to include a patio, rumpus room
|
|
and second storey. He renames it Constantinople. He also holds the
|
|
biggest street party in history, parts of which are still going.
|
|
|
|
330
|
|
Constantine moves the capital to Constantinople. Unfortunately, he
|
|
hires Ancient World Cheap Removals, and a lot of the buildings
|
|
arrive in ruins, which accounts for their rather dishevelled look
|
|
now.
|
|
|
|
337
|
|
Having found the last of the cutlery that went missing during the
|
|
move, and just when it looks like he's doing so well, Constantine
|
|
dies, and the empire is again ruled by a succession of joint (and
|
|
rival) emperors.
|
|
|
|
379
|
|
Theodosius the Great, emperor in the East, drives Goths from Greece
|
|
and Italy, in his new Volvo Chariot. Despite the lack of snow, he
|
|
finds himself unable to turn his parking torches off.
|
|
|
|
382
|
|
Theodosius makes peace with the Goths, rather than madden them and
|
|
see their penchant for wearing black spread throughout the empire.
|
|
|
|
394
|
|
Theodosius becomes last sole emperor of the Roman world, making
|
|
record redundancy payments to outgoing emperors.
|
|
|
|
395
|
|
Theodosius dies; division of empire into West and East becomes
|
|
final. The Roman Curtain descends.
|
|
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
|
|
|
I think the baby is a remarkable foetus of engineering
|
|
|
|
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
|
Yep, that's another issue of Toxic
|
|
Custard over and done with. For those
|
|
of you lucky enough to have FTP
|
|
access, you can get back-issues NOW!
|
|
Details from tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu
|
|
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
|
Copyright (c) 1994 Daniel Bowen. May be freely distributed without
|
|
profit provided no modifications are made.
|
|
--
|
|
Daniel Bowen, Melbourne, Australia--| Telecom don't have anything
|
|
Work: dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au| to do with the crap I churn
|
|
Play: dbowen@gnu.ai.mit.edu---------| out in my spare time.
|
|
TCWF: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu-----------| Consider this a disclaimer.
|
|
|
|
THIS WEEK'S ONE-LINER
|
|
John-Luc Picard: "To baldly go where no-one has gone before"
|
|
(Brian Smith)
|
|
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
"Seamail Toxic Custard"
|
|
|
|
|
|
##### #### # # #### Number 218
|
|
# # # # # 26th September 1994
|
|
#oxic #ustard # # #orkshop ###iles written by Daniel Bowen
|
|
# #### ####### # tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu
|
|
|
|
TOXIC HISTORY OF THE WORLD
|
|
Part 15 of enough to keep us going until next year
|
|
|
|
407 AD
|
|
As barbarians pour into Western empire, Roman legions are withdrawn
|
|
from Britain in last attempt to defend Rome, but as usual, the
|
|
withdrawal method fails. Meanwhile, Britain is left easy prey to
|
|
Angles and Saxons. The Angles, led by Isosceles, start a campaign
|
|
to rebuild the straight Roman roads.
|
|
|
|
410
|
|
The Visigoths under Alaric plunder Rome, destroying homes, stealing
|
|
jewels, and setting fire to the souvenir shops. Waves of barbarians
|
|
sweep into Spain, Portugal, Italy, Gaul and North Africa on their
|
|
surf boards, terrorising the populations with their bright pink
|
|
wetsuits.
|
|
|
|
434
|
|
Attila wins a breakfast cereal competition by answering the
|
|
question "Why I would like to be leader of the Huns and go on a
|
|
rampage around Europe" in 25 words or less.
|
|
|
|
449
|
|
Hengist and Horsa, Jutish chiefs, invade England as a university
|
|
open day prank, and set up kingdom in Kent.
|
|
|
|
451
|
|
Invading Gaul, Attila is defeated by an army of Goths and Romans at
|
|
Chalons. The Goths and Romans later debate long into the night
|
|
about whether their combined armies should be called Groths or
|
|
Gromans. They eventually settle on "The Combined Goth & Roman
|
|
Co-operative Army Inc".
|
|
|
|
452
|
|
Attila invades Italy; is persuaded by Pope Leo I to spare Rome.
|
|
Which is lucky, otherwise Attila might have ruined the ruins of
|
|
Rome even more.
|
|
|
|
453
|
|
Attila dies three weeks before he is due to fly to Disneyland.
|
|
|
|
455
|
|
Vandals sack Rome. Rome applies for the dole. In next twenty years
|
|
ten different emperors rule. Nothing much has changed in 1500
|
|
years, has it?
|
|
|
|
476
|
|
Last Roman emperor deposed; and as the sun slinks slowly in the
|
|
west, the Western empire comes to an end.
|
|
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
|
|
|
Medieval Demtel
|
|
|
|
"Good even' all. I be Jethro Demtel. And I come to your village to
|
|
offer you the most amazing bargains. New from me, Jethro, comes the
|
|
Demtel three-pronged pitchfork. It be great for such activities as:
|
|
- shifting hay
|
|
- killing suspected witches
|
|
- piling hay
|
|
- leaning on to look rustic
|
|
and last but not least,
|
|
- moving hay
|
|
How many pence would you expect to pay, I hear you asking ol' Jethro.
|
|
Well don't ask, because if you buy from Jethro tonight, I'll throw in
|
|
this free sack of potatoes. I'm standing by, so order now."
|
|
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
|
|
|
Just how slow can overseas mail go? Well, quite slowly, if this
|
|
leaked procedures document from the post office is any indication:
|
|
|
|
Third class mail - parcel is put in a basket with other parcels. When
|
|
the basket has filled, it is taken to the nearest despatch point,
|
|
where a container is filled with baskets. When the container is
|
|
filled, it is taken to the docks. The containers all going to a
|
|
particular country are loaded aboard a ship. When the ship is full of
|
|
containers, it sails to the destination.
|
|
|
|
Fourth class mail - parcel is put into any basket - which could be
|
|
going anywhere. When the basket is filled, the post office clerk
|
|
spins a wheel to decide where it will go. When it eventually reaches
|
|
a despatch point, it is again thrown into any old container. If it
|
|
gets to the docks, the container is put aboard the first ship, which
|
|
may sail anywhere. When and if the container reaches its destination
|
|
country, it is unloaded and taken to its destination.
|
|
|
|
Fifth class mail - the parcel is given $5 and a sleeping bag and told
|
|
to hitchhike to its destination.
|
|
|
|
Sixth class mail - the parcel is thrown into the river.
|
|
|
|
Seventh class mail - the parcel is cut into small pieces, burned, and
|
|
then thrown into the rubbish. The rubbish bin is collected and taken
|
|
to the destination, where the charred ashes of the parcel are poured
|
|
over the addressee's head.
|
|
|
|
Eighth class mail - first a feasibility study is prepared. Impact
|
|
assessment of the parcel reaching its destination is studied. A full
|
|
business case with costing and estimates for deliverables is written
|
|
up and approved by the customer. Then an analysis phase begins, with
|
|
the path of quickest delivery being calculated. Formal specifications
|
|
for delivery are drafted, revised, and signed-off, before a delivery
|
|
job-card is prepared and authorised, and personnel and equipment
|
|
allocated to the task. At this point we realise that we've lost the
|
|
parcel underneath all the paperwork somewhere, and we give up and
|
|
hope the customer doesn't remember having wanted to deliver anything
|
|
anywhere in the first place.
|
|
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
|
|
|
THINGS TO SAY TO YOUR PERIPHERALS, PART 17
|
|
"I don't think I like your toner."
|
|
|
|
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
|
Toxic Custards 1 to 215 are now
|
|
available by ftp... email
|
|
tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu for details!
|
|
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
|
Copyright (c) 1994 Daniel Bowen. May be freely distributed without
|
|
profit provided no modifications are made.
|
|
--
|
|
Daniel Bowen, Melbourne, Australia--| Just because I work for Telecom
|
|
Work: dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au| doesn't mean they have anything
|
|
Play: dbowen@gnu.ai.mit.edu---------| to do with the stuff I churn
|
|
TCWF: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu-----------| out in my spare time.
|
|
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
"Slow responding Toxic Custard"
|
|
|
|
|
|
TOXIC CUSTARD WORKSHOP FILES
|
|
::::: ::::: : : ::::: Number 219
|
|
: : : : : ::: 3rd October 1994
|
|
: ::::: ::::::: : written by Daniel Bowen
|
|
|
|
TOXIC HISTORY OF THE WORLD
|
|
Part 16 of a whole big large bunch
|
|
|
|
482 AD
|
|
Clovis, king of the Salian Franks, makes himself first king of
|
|
Frankland (France), with Paris as his capital. As is so often the
|
|
case, many of his people are punished because of accidentally
|
|
laughing at his name. Things are not improved when they discover
|
|
that the German form of it is Chlodwig.
|
|
|
|
496
|
|
Clovis is baptised as an April Fools' Day joke when his guards
|
|
throw him into the palace lake. Franks become Christians, mostly as
|
|
an excuse to send the kids to private schools.
|
|
|
|
527
|
|
Justinian becomes emperor in Constantinople, but breaks with
|
|
tradition when he decides not to found a new capital city named
|
|
after him. Attempting re-conquest of Western Empire, he recovers
|
|
North Africa, South Eastern Spain and Italy. Which is not a bad
|
|
effort considering he only had two old men, a dark ages bicycle and
|
|
a small dog for help.
|
|
|
|
536
|
|
Belisarius, Justinian's famous general, captures Rome. He then
|
|
decides to let it go because it's under weight. But sanity prevails
|
|
and Rome is skinned and cooked on the barbecue for lunch.
|
|
|
|
565
|
|
Justinian dies, after many years of constitutional reform, and a
|
|
fair bit of stuffing himself with hamburgers on weekends.
|
|
|
|
568
|
|
Lombards(*) invade Italy, settle in the north.
|
|
|
|
(*) As everyone knows, the definition of Lombard is: "Loads Of Money,
|
|
But A Real Dickhead"
|
|
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
|
|
|
THINGS THAT TAKE TOO LONG
|
|
|
|
Do fluorescent lights annoy everybody else as much as they annoy
|
|
me? They are too damned slow to turn on. A whole three seconds?! Who
|
|
has that sort of time to spare while the light decides whether or not
|
|
it wants to turn on?
|
|
|
|
And traffic lights. Why do they take so long? Why am I always the
|
|
last person to get the green light? Is there someone sitting in a
|
|
control room somewhere, watching me on a monitor and laughing as they
|
|
see me get more and more frustrated waiting for the light to change?
|
|
Why is it that traffic lights are designed so that pedestrians trying
|
|
to cross wait so long that they give up when they see a gap in the
|
|
traffic, and run across. And a few seconds later, the traffic lights
|
|
change, delaying a whole bunch of car drivers so that the person who
|
|
has already crossed, can cross.
|
|
|
|
It also takes too long to ring the speaking clock. When I ring
|
|
1194, I want to know the time. I usually want to know the time NOW,
|
|
and not entirely precisely. I don't want to have to wait through a
|
|
whole ten seconds of the pips and the very polite voice saying "at
|
|
the third stroke it will be...". Maybe they should have another
|
|
speaking clock. The approximate speaking clock. When you ring it, it
|
|
just says "'bout a quarter past eleven" or "five minutes 'til the
|
|
third race at Flemington" or "just time for another beer".
|
|
|
|
And why is it that the more modern the computer, the longer it
|
|
takes to boot up? Remember back to the eight-bit days of the early
|
|
eighties? Click, beep, computer available. Now you turn it on, go get
|
|
a cup of tea, and when you come back, you might be lucky and only
|
|
have to sit through the second half of the memory test and the
|
|
copyright messages. And if you're like me, you are always paranoid
|
|
and never EVER skip the memory test. I mean... what if the memory
|
|
fails just as you're doing your most important essay ever; or worse,
|
|
breaking the 3,000,000 point barrier on Zonko Invaders' Revenge? Of
|
|
course, a zillion other things in the computer that don't get tested
|
|
could fail, but there's no sense in taking unnecessary risks, is
|
|
there?
|
|
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
|
|
|
THING PART 15
|
|
====================
|
|
|
|
(Jeff and Ron are leafing through magazines in the newsagent.)
|
|
|
|
JEFF: Ah yes, these look like the right mags for me. New Scientist,
|
|
Microbiology Weekly, and Atomic Plasma Research Enthusiast.
|
|
|
|
RON: But every month you buy those magazines, look at the
|
|
pictures, look at some of the words, look at the dictionary,
|
|
look back at the pictures, and then screw up the magazine in
|
|
disgust and throw it away.
|
|
|
|
JEFF: So what have you got there, Einstein?
|
|
|
|
RON: I ummm, you know how I take more of an interest in... ummm...
|
|
naturist publications?
|
|
|
|
JEFF: You mean porn?
|
|
|
|
RON: Shhh, shhh. It's not so much porn... it's just that I like to
|
|
admire the beauty of the human form.
|
|
|
|
JEFF: Yeah, I've noticed how you like to creep off somewhere on
|
|
your own to admire the beauty of the human form, in all it's
|
|
natural splendour, especially when the human form concerned
|
|
is a large breasted bimbo with interesting underwear. So, are
|
|
you going to purchase these aforementioned journals of the
|
|
soul?
|
|
|
|
RON: Ummm.. yeah. Look, you know how it is. Would you.. umm...
|
|
Well, it's like...
|
|
|
|
JEFF: Let me guess. Let me try and work out what you're about to
|
|
say here. You want me to slip your "Big Bouncy Bonking
|
|
Buttocks Monthly" and "Slinky Silky Sexpots Review"; your
|
|
journals of the wobbly body, in between my journals of the
|
|
mind, in the vain hope that the guy at the counter doesn't
|
|
notice and tell your mother?
|
|
|
|
RON: Yup.
|
|
|
|
JEFF: And after we've looked at our own magazines, can we swap?
|
|
|
|
RON: Yup.
|
|
|
|
JEFF: Deal.
|
|
|
|
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
|
Loads and loads of old Toxic Custards
|
|
are just waiting to be ftp'd by you!
|
|
Mail tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu for details.
|
|
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
|
Copyright (c) 1994 Daniel Bowen. May be freely distributed without
|
|
profit provided no modifications are made.
|
|
--
|
|
Daniel Bowen, Melbourne, Australia--| Telecom Australia have
|
|
Work: dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au| absolutely nothing to do with
|
|
Play: dbowen@gnu.ai.mit.edu---------| TCWF. I, on the other hand,
|
|
TCWF: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu-----------| have no such excuse.
|
|
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
"Predictably Toxic Custard"
|
|
|
|
..... ... . . ... .. .. ...
|
|
| | | | |.. .| .| | | 10/10/94
|
|
|OXIC |..USTARD |.|.|ORKSHOP |ILES |.. |.. |.| by Daniel Bowen
|
|
|
|
TOXIC HISTORY OF THE WORLD
|
|
Part 17 of a monumental stack
|
|
|
|
570 AD
|
|
Birth of Mohammed, who would be trained as a merchant, but would
|
|
later decide on a career move, and became Prophet and founder of
|
|
Islam instead.
|
|
|
|
590
|
|
Gregory The Great becomes Pope; declares Rome supreme centre of the
|
|
Church. Those around him who say it will never catch on mostly
|
|
decide to go and live as hermits out of embarrassment.
|
|
|
|
597
|
|
St Augustine lands in England, baptises Ethelbert, king of Kent.
|
|
Ethelbert unfortunately cannot swim, and before anyone realises
|
|
what's happened, drowns.
|
|
|
|
601
|
|
St Augustine becomes first archbishop of Canterbury after
|
|
threatening to "baptise" any competitors.
|
|
|
|
c616
|
|
Mohammed proclaims himself the only true prophet of Allah, after
|
|
signing an exclusive distribution contract.
|
|
|
|
618
|
|
Great T'ang dynasty is founded in China. Yep, one day the people
|
|
concerned said to themselves "I think today would be a good day to
|
|
start a great dynasty. What shall we call this great dynasty of
|
|
ours? Hmmm how about... Carrington? Nah... Ewing... Nah... oh wait,
|
|
what about T'ang! Yeah, The Great T'ang Dynasty... it has a kind of
|
|
ring to it. I like it!"
|
|
|
|
628
|
|
Mohammed writes to all rulers of the earth, demanding that they
|
|
acknowledge the One True God, Allah, and serve Him. Most of the
|
|
rulers of the earth read the letter, then throw it in the
|
|
recycling.
|
|
|
|
632
|
|
Mohammed dies; his friend Abu Bakr, successor, leads the Arabs out
|
|
of the desert to achieve Mohammed's aim of making the world submit
|
|
to Islam. His mother ensures that he takes a packed lunch and a
|
|
change of underwear with him.
|
|
"Not now mum, I'm leading the Arabs out of the desert to make
|
|
the world submit to Islam!"
|
|
"I don't care where you're going, you're going there in an
|
|
ironed shirt and clean socks."
|
|
|
|
643
|
|
The Arabs defeat armies of the Eastern empire at Yarmak. Somewhere
|
|
here there's a link about the Pope always kissing the ground at
|
|
airports, but something got lost in the translation. ("No no,
|
|
that's TARMAC, your holiness".)
|
|
|
|
637
|
|
The Arabs defeat the Persians at Kardessia, and go on to storm up
|
|
into the first division, defeating Mesopotamia, Syria, Palestine
|
|
and Egypt.
|
|
|
|
638
|
|
Jerusalem surrenders to the Arabs, although civic leaders claim
|
|
it's a dastardly plan to load the Arabs up with Wailing Wall
|
|
souvenirs.
|
|
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
|
|
|
THE PRODUCTS THAT NEVER MADE IT, NUMBER 36
|
|
THE UNBELIEVERS' MAGIC EIGHT BALL
|
|
Proposed responses:
|
|
- No idea
|
|
- Not really sure
|
|
- Cannot predict at this time
|
|
- Maybe yes, maybe no
|
|
- Go read your horoscope
|
|
- A bit of plastic cannot foretell anything
|
|
- An accurate prediction is a physical impossibility
|
|
- What do you want for $5, Nostradamus?
|
|
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
|
|
|
Okay, time for a few home truths. It may surprise you to hear that
|
|
I'm not a completely swinging manic lunatic who spends his days and
|
|
nights partying, indulging in wild drinking, and making everyone in
|
|
the surrounding area laugh constantly from dawn til dusk. I'm
|
|
actually quite a boring individual, and you would probably fall
|
|
asleep if you got stuck in a conversation with me for more than a
|
|
couple of minutes. My idea of a wild weekend is a visit to K-Mart.
|
|
It's a late night if I'm in bed after 10. I *don't* know the words to
|
|
the Roger Ramjet song. Well, not all of them. I have haircuts at a
|
|
barber. I can't even remember what frequency Triple-J is on. In fact,
|
|
I'm so boring that my idea of a joke is to rabbit on about how boring
|
|
I am.
|
|
I'm also pleased to be able to say that I'm not famous. I've
|
|
never been recognised on the train. Stared at, yes, but not
|
|
recognised.
|
|
And I've never been in trouble with the law. Yet. Though I have
|
|
maliciously jaywalked once or twice. And returned my library books
|
|
late. By mistake. I suppose it's only a matter of time before they
|
|
catch up with me.
|
|
"Right men, this is the target. Bowen, Daniel Francis.
|
|
Offences over 15 years ranging from jaywalking, stealing other
|
|
people's junk mail, watering the plants too hard... Believed
|
|
to be in possession of late library books. So, a real hard
|
|
case. Not known to be armed unless you count a rather heavy
|
|
sticky-tape dispenser he sometimes swings around. So here's
|
|
the plan: Ummm.. same as the last raid, really. Go in waving
|
|
shotguns around, I guess. Any questions?"
|
|
|
|
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
|
Loads and loads of old Toxic Custards
|
|
are just waiting to be ftp'd by you!
|
|
Mail tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu for details.
|
|
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
|
Copyright (c) 1994 Daniel Bowen. May be freely distributed without
|
|
profit provided no modifications are made.
|
|
--
|
|
Daniel Bowen, Melbourne, Australia--| Telecom Australia have
|
|
Work: dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au| nothing at all to do with
|
|
Play: dbowen@gnu.ai.mit.edu---------| TCWF. I, on the other hand,
|
|
TCWF: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu-----------| have no such excuse. Damn.
|
|
|
|
DOSKEY - the Polish Operating System
|
|
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
the Toxic Custard Workshop Files by Daniel Bowen, Melbourne, Australia
|
|
|
|
Copyright (c) 1994, 1995 Daniel Bowen. May be freely distributed
|
|
without profit provided this notice remains intact.
|
|
|
|
For subscription and back-issue information, contact tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu
|
|
|