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                  ________________________________________
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              |||   `Y88P' `Y88P'  ,oQ88Do,   `Y88P"`"YP   |||
   =-==========|=     88     88   d8P'  `Y8b   `88'   '    =|===========-=
              |||   .,$8ooooo8$   88      88  .,88o8       |||
              |||     88     8b   88      88    88         |||
   =-==========|=     88     88   Y8b.  .d8P   .88    .    =|========ks=-=
   <%$#@      |||   ,d88b, ,d88b,  `"Y88P"`   ,d88b,.,db   |||       @#$%>
   <%$#@                                                             @#$%>
   <%$#@                             -90-                            @#$%>
   <%$#@                                                             @#$%>
   <%$#@                       "The Final Jammy"                     @#$%>
   <%$#@                                                             @#$%>
   <=====================================================================>

telnet> co hoe.org

Trying...666.174.2.1
Connected to HOE.ORG..
Escape character is '^]'.

Welcome to the Place Where Piggies Frolic

          "Oink! Oink!"

elite login: mogel
sekrut werd: fuck_me_sideways

                        w00t!@#  yEr k0dEz wERkED!@

                     y0U'Ve eNtERR'd dE eLYTe pLACE!@

 .ad$a.       
 `D$$a   $$ .a$$$a. .ad$a.         .a$$$a. $a.&$$a.   .a$$$a.
  `$$   $$ $


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     .@@@,  $$' ,$$ $


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   $$   $$ `D$$$P' $$$a. @$$@  `D$$$P' $$    $$  `D$$$P'
   $


                            `@@@'                    $'
   $'                                                      



   





           Last interactive login on Wednesday,  22-JULY-1995 10:05

           You Have 2 New Mail Messages.

           Yes, You still have your appendix.

% mail

           Welcome to the FUNK E-Mail reader V4.9-2

email> read 1

______________________________________________________________________________

From sheik@ndts7.pt06.ndsu.NoDak.edu
Date: 19 July 95 01:46 PDT
Subject: Invitation to #warez2

        I would like to formally invite you to the #warez2 channel located on
IRC!  Our staff is dedicated to provide safety and fun for your pleasure.  I
am Sheik, the security chief for all of the channels that include: #warez2,
#warez3, #warez4, #warez5, #warez6, #warez7

        Our channels are dedicated to allow free transfer of any and all
copyrighted software.  In the new electronic age, the authorities really
don't give a shit about our activities.  We transfer games, applications, and
utilities for DOS, Windows, OS/2, and WinNT/95.

        Our goal is to allow everyone to trade files freely.  My job is to
make sure the channels stay safe and secure while everyone exchanges their
latest versions of Microsoft Office, Sim Town, Comanche CD-ROM, Warriors
CD-ROM, and Quantum Castle.  There are, of course, many other applications
and games that everyone is exchanging online IRC.

        Is this illegal?  Yes.  Does anyone care?  No.  So come on and drop
by our channels and exchange some software!  We might even give you a few
Warez FTP sites just for being there.

        #warez2 is open most of the time.  If you can't get in there, just
ask myself (Sheik), or any of my channel assistances:

        asylum, Lyrch, lsi, Vortex-, devan, SprinT, claim, PeLe_, LeStaT_
        WAngel, Xtream, ZED, fuct, fet, Stumble, ByT0R, v0ntrips, TCB
        Cassidy, [Rain, BlAcKLiTE, PeNNyWisE, Phantasy, PRiME, Mal_2

        Our channel bots are: GdAnGuS, GdAnGi, SiteServ, and many others.

        The more public channels: #warez5 -> #warez9 are always open.

        I hope to see you down in our channel.  We can always use the help
of exchanging files... plus it's fun and you'll meet new friends!

        See you there!  Also, I am using SLIP right now, so you will not be
able to respond back via e-mail.  Please meet me online IRC, or see me in the
channel.

--
The Sheik
Security Chief for #warez2
Co-Assistant is "asylum" at dpotter@theodolite.ae.calpoly.edu

"Trade warez all day long; it's what the Internet is for!"
______________________________________________________________________________


email> read 2

______________________________________________________________________________

From everlast@aol.com
Date: 29 July 95 04:46 PDT
Subject: hey mogel!@#

        Hey Mogel!

        This is quite a blast from the past and all, but after all this time,
I've finally got net access!  boy, that bbs world stuff is so limited!  now
I can find more bomb files and learn much more!  So how's HoE?  I've heard
you guys got a lot bigger, and even without me!  I can't wait to see the
kewl stuff that has come out of HoE since I wrote my ping pong bomb file back
in #7.  I was thinking of doing an supplement file to that.  What do you
think?

Please reply,

Everlast
______________________________________________________________________________

email> del 1

email> del 2

email> exit

% nn

Now Entering l0ZeNET.
Better than UseNet.

NEWSRDR V7.2-6
Copyright ? 1995 HoE Inc.  All Rights Reserved.
%NEWS-I-CONNECTING, connecting to NNTP server funky-rad.net
%NEWS-I-NEWGROUP, found new group alt.gr33nday.ph0rever
%NEWS-I-NEWGROUP, found new group alt.nerdy.doctor.diagnostics.prenatal
%NEWS-I-NEWGROUP, found new group alt.bah.sucks
%NEWS-I-NEWGROUP, found new group alt.insert.random.group.here
%NEWS-I-NEWGROUP, found new group alt.hoe.die.die.die
%NEWS-I-NEWGROUP, found new group bionet.chicken-sex
%NEWS-I-UPDATING, locating unread articles; please wait...

      3 new articles in newsgroup alt.hoe
      5 new articles in newsgroup alt.angst.for.donuts
 645648 new articles in newsgroup alt.2600
      6 new articles in newsgroup alt.fan.warez
      3 new articles in newsgroup misc.writing
      2 new articles in newsgroup alt.religion.rudabega

News> group alt.hoe

%NEWS-I-GRPSET, current newsgroup now alt.hoe
-NEWS-I-GRPINFO, articles [398,400], 3 unseen

News> read

______________________________________________________________________________

alt.hoe                                   article 398 of [398,400] (2 unseen)

From: mogel@hoe.org (Mogel)
Subject: The Fate of HoE.
Organization: HoE Publications
Lines: 153

   Okay, l0zERz.  The news is official.  HoE is DEAD.  Deal with it.

   Yeah, it's ninety issues and and one year later.  Looking back over the
last year it amazes me how much has changed around me since i started up this
stupid damn e'zine back in time.  It hasn't just been the world - it's been
the changes in this 'zine, the computer people that i talk to, and of course
my _real_ life that have been so inconceivably drastic since the mark of
HoE's inception that it's almost too much to think about and reflect on.

   So I won't.
   
   The purpose of this post here is to inform you of a few things.  It's
basically going to talk about the history of HoE and some of the
behind-the-scenes quirky things that have gone on, that should be put in here
before they are forgotten.  We're also going to talk about what HoE is
completely about in the past and present.  Finally, I'm going to give you all
the meaty gossip on why i'm killing HoE once and for all and what's in store
for me and the HoE-Team in moving onto a brighter day for the e'zine world.

   Of course, before any of this, there's people that have made my year in
the e'zine publishing "business" a lot more enjoyable.  So, now here's a very
condensed list of some of the people that have made me extra happy relating
to HoE in the last year.  Yes, I do gr33t people that have nothing to do with
HoE that i just lublub.  If I forgot anyone that should have been included,
please harass me when you see me, or take credit for it with the gr33t to
"godd(+d)," so thanks for the existence and persistence of h0e (for better
or worse) go to:
 
 abigwar, acid warlock, alex swain, ascii express, basehead, beaner,
 beck hansen, black francis, black sunshine, boogeyman, captain hook,
 chal e. mac, change, charlie, chickenlord, corrosion, crank, cstone,
 curious george, cyberelf, dark phiber, dash, dead cheese, death veggie,
 defiant, demonika, disorder, dr. hate, drunkfux, edicius, eerie, epicac,
 erikb, franken gibe, gausep00, godd(+d), guido sanchez, grayarea,
 greg aubel, half-baked, im2k4u2c, inner logic, invalid media, invisible man,
 i wish i were nathan, james hetfield, jason farnon, juliet, kamui, kaos,
 killer wombat, kidknee, killgore trout, k0rrupt, k-spiff, lady carolyn,
 lobo, logik, lucifuge, lucky, mad arab, mistawho, m0rpheus, mr. brownstone,
 mr. sandman, murmur, neko, nitro187, nykia, nymph, obscure images,
 pandemonium, panther modern, paradox, pale, phaedrus, pip the angry youth,
 psycho santa, psychotic pyrotic, puck, rattle, ring master, rush 2, sage,
 sinister sheep, spiff, scooter, scared poet, sed, shadow tao, slave, slater,
 socrates, spooky, subzero, sunspot, swallow, syrinx, thalassocracy,
 thanatos, the anarch, the chief, the gnn, the guest, the professor,
 the raver, the stranger, u4ea, valgamon, velocity girl, violent femmes,
 visioknight, voodoo child, vyrus, whisper, whoops, winona ryder, wiz of id,
 x, xgirl, y-wind0ze, zippy, zorro.

   At any rate, you can't do anything but smirk in that i'm-so-cool way when
you look back upon the history and moronics of HoE.  And, yes, believe me, I
do.

   When I was sitting on my BBS as a lowly t-file l0vin' sysop the idea
sprung to me of something rad I could do to basically kill a lot of time (I
was a lot less busy then).  I decided for "the hell of it" to create a
"RAD!@#" t-file group.  "I L0V CDC AND BLAH@!# I CAN BE JUST LIKE THEM!@#"
I thought.  Note: at the time I only had up to cDc 100 and BLaH 20.  Shrug.
At any rate, so HoE began.  If you look back to everything from the attitude
to the headers, it's all a total BAD cDc rip.  Ugh.  It literally pains me to
read that old stuff.  And of course, those anarchy texts weren't really what
I "wanted" for h0e way-back-when, but I dunno.. I wanted something "ayche
pee" at the time to be in the mag, and I knew that *SO* many cheesy t-files
had been written repeating the same information over and over again, and many
times it was even wrong info.  Stupid, Stupid.  So I took what I got, as lame
as it was.  Yeah, sadly I can't turn back time, so there they are, HoE #3 and
#7, b0mbs and all.  Heh.  

   Already up to issue 11 in the releasing thing.  I played the "h0e r00lz!@"
routine totally, but even then i knew it sucked.  Why did I continue?  I have
no idea.  But then I ran into Abigwar and he posed an interest in HoE and
began writing.  He was basically what kept h0e alive then, and he wrote many
of those files in the 20s and 30s.  Many still give me a chuckle, like the
"Proof on the Questions!" file.  For a time then I really began to dig HoE
and actually take a little pride in the 'zine.  We had a buncha people that
"showed interest" and we were releasing wacky t-file after wacky t-file.  It
was around this time that I starting calling places like DRU and /<ingdom of
Shit [cDc] and schmoosing my heroes of cDc.  Of course they didn't want to be
sucked-up to, and in my eyes I was honestly telling them how much they
"inspired me," but I suppose they didn't get it really, and some cDcers today
actually rag on me for it.  Why?  I dunno.  I guess they like that ego-thing
(coughladycarolinecoughomegacou).  Whatever.  I wrote and communicated with
Swamp Ratte' a bunch and wrote some cDc files that probably won't get
released for years since the delayed unreleased submission files on SR's hard
drive number close to 200.  cDc = exclusive and inconceivably slow at
releasing.

   Anyway back to HoE.  We were releasing these wacky t-files and at some
point in time i think we got a little t0o wacky.  It just seemed like I was
caught up in the releasing thing and not the "quality-control" thing
(although we were _still_ better than gasp :>, well, not like that's hard to
do).  Whateverthecase, one of the writers that I really respected, Corrosion,
yelled at me and was >THIS< close to quitting h0e.  So I actually thought
about it and he was right.  When people look back and read h0e it's all gonna
be a big buncha crap.  No one's gonna give a fuck.  So, at #45 we started
the new release-them-in-packs format which seems to have worked very nicely.
I put on a real quality control.  I didn't release anything I didn't honestly
like anymore, and so, after that point HoE began producing some neat files.
I am actually proud of a few HoE files, which is really something for me.

   As my life changed, I moved to college, and Black Francis basically saved
HoE.  He put up his board and continued supporting HoE as the WHQ and e'zines
in general by producing his rEd/pEz (which I wrote for).  pEz is some amazing
stuff.  Anyhoo, I owe so much to frannie I can't even begin to tell you.
When I'm a famous movie director, he will be getting monthly installments of
money.

   HoE #61-89 were pretty damn neat.  Since HoE's inception the ideas that
have been building up in my head finally came out in one incredibly gratifying
writing spew which ultimately became my "mE t0o!@" file.  The last HoE release
is on _such_ a different plane than when HoE started it blows my mind.

   "So why the hell are you giving HoE up, Moggie?!@"

   Well, to be honest, in my attempt to be different from cDc, I failed.
Anyway, HoE basically became "just like cDc except anyone could submit good
stuff to it and actually get it out in the same year."  HoE wasn't exclusive.
"Isn't that enough difference??" Spiff asked me.  No Spiff, evidently it's
not, since even after the last release, HoE _still_ wasn't pulling in a
number of writers that I wanted.  I guess I expected writers too poof out of
no where magically.  I think I had this phantasy that there was all this
untapped talent out there waiting to come out in cyber-g33x.  Yes, I was
wrong.  It takes a very special personality to be a continually productive
t-file guy.

   So, as sad as it is, it's all for the best that HoE dies.  We just weren't
getting the attention.  But, that's okay though.  Why?  Because I've only
just begun to fight.  Seriously.  HoE and pEz were just the first stepping
stones for us in the e'zine world.  It was a "practice" if you will.

   All of our problems are being solved from this point forward, as very soon
you'll be seeing a brand new e'zine, with it's own original format.  pEz/HoE
attitude intact, with a lot of style.  The best part is the line up.  We've
got all kinds of intelligent, productive guys, that are ready to write for the
new e'zine.
        

    Black Francis - Mogel - James Hetfield - Eerie - Murmur - Shadow Tao
        Neko - Sed - Thalassocracy - IM2K - Dead Cheese - Silver Jew

                                                ...and many more.

   We're not only going to change things a lot, but it's my goal to make cDc
eat their words.  They _will_ phear Mogel.

   So, I bid you goodbye, and I'd like to say thanks to everyone that
supported us and stuff.

   You ain't seen nothin' yet.

 *sMEWCh!@*,

     Funk-Mastah Mogel

______________________________________________________________________________


News> next

______________________________________________________________________________

alt.hoe                                   article 399 of [399,400] (1 unseen)

From: jamesy@hoe.org (James Hetfield)
Subject: my sekrut phantasee!
Organization: l0ck wannabes
Lines: 37

        Mohaha!  Hey m0gel!@  you can't kiLl h0E!@#

        If only i was the the new autocrat of h0e!

<ENtUR dR3AM SEE-QUENZ>

        So, to start out as the NEW leader of h0e, I'll begin by changing
the name of the mag.  h0e now stands for:

                        HEFTY OLD ELEPHANTS!!!!!!!!!!1

        And, to make things even better, I got RAD MAN of ACiD to draw
the NEW hoe MASCOT!!!!                          
                                                _ 
                                               | |
                                               | |
                        \               /--|__/ /
                          \ /----------|   |-  |
                           |                __/
                            \|  |-------|  |
                             |  |       |  |


        look at his long tail! HE HE HE

        Now that you know the new title of hoe and the new mascot, whose
name will forever be known as MOE the HOE elephant, it's time to get to
the more important business!  h0e from now on will only be accepting 
text files regarding the following items:

     -  ararcy!!!! (Microwave bombs, killing old women, and so on!!!)
     -  hacking!!! any files about hacking!!! PREFERABLY ALL IN CAPS!!!
     -  ANY, i repeat, ANY SONG LYRICS!!!! HOPEFULLY METALLICA!!#@!@!@##!@
     -  recepes for cookies!!! I love cookies!!!
     -  any XXX porn files!#@@!#@#!!@#!@# especially lesiban i love that

- lamesy jamesy

______________________________________________________________________________


News> next

______________________________________________________________________________

alt.hoe                                   article 400 of [400,400] (0 unseen)

From: mogel@hoe.org (Mogel)
Subject: Oh!  Those Interviews!
Organization: HoE Publications
Lines: 380

   Oh.  I just realized that since I'm done with HoE, and I have these extra
interview t-files floating around from back in HoE #70, I should post them
here for you all to see.  I nabbed a bunch of people I couldn't interview in
the past, including these elites: 

            alex swain, grayarea, y-w1nd0ze, erikb, and u4ea.
        
   Go me.


=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=----=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=
|                  Alex Swain, of the 'zine Whatever Ramblings               |
=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=----=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=


1] How the poop did you ever originally get such a spiffy god-damned handle?

   Well I don't really use handles/aliases anymore but I've been around a
long time and have had several handles in that time.  I think my first handle
was Major Havoc which I got from the vector-graphic Atari game.  I used that
for probably two or three years sometime around 1983-1985 or so.  Then in
1986 I changed my alias to Ares (after the Greek god of war) and used that
pretty consistently on boards and on the Net/Telnet (such as Altos Germany)
until about 1988.  In 1988 I was busted for various things and dropped out of
computers altogether.  Then about a year ago I got back onto the Net and
started using the alias t3 which I got because I was writing an article on
backbones at the time.  I've never really given a shit about aliases but try
not to change them because it just gets confusing.

2] How old were you and what was it that got you into this whole shin-dig?

   I'm not sure if you mean zines or computers...I got my first modem when I
was eleven (i'm 22 now) and spent most of my younger years on bbs's racking
up major phone bills because I thought everything within my own area code was
local.  I've been consistently using computers for a long time and have done
just a little bit of everything including programming and various
questionable activities.  I got into zines in 1987 when I did a really weak
small skate zine called Habit which I must have made 30 copies of and gave
away to all the skaters I could find.  From there it just progressed and I
started Whatever Ramblings in the summer of 1989 which I'm still doing more
or less.  About a year ago I got into E-Zines and E-Print zines (I called
E-Print zines publications that are in print as well as electronic) and
basically just ftp all the files to my archive site in Michigan.

3] Why do you continue doing such socially IMPORTANT work?

   Well I question how IMPORTANT my work is.  I like writing alot and about
anything.  I'm still trying to get a grasp of exactly how to write so I end
up experimenting alot with styles and ideas.

4] Do you have a life?  If so, what are some real world interests of yours?

   Well in my definition I don't really have a life.  Unfortunately my
definition is derived from society which has such ideals as a 40-hour work
week and a daily schedule, two things I do not have.  If you mean do I have a
life in a "do you do anything but sit in front of a computer?" sense then
yes.  I went to music school and play guitar about four hours a day as well
as read alot and play with my orange tabby named Sunkist.  Every once in a
while I go to a punk show or go drinking with my pals.  I also do alot of
travelling which is pretty obvious in my writings.

5] What person in the world is the /<-RaDDeZT eleet guy dat makes you happy?

   Well |<-rad sort of conjures up a bad memory for me, mostly warez-kiddies
from AE boards in the mid 80's.  But I see what you're gettin' at.  I'd say
my friend Ace Backwards is pretty "eleet" in my definition.  He's an
underground comic artist that has been consistently putting out good strips
for over ten years now.  He's very productive and generally succeeds me in
producing material which is surprising because sometimes I put out a zine
twice a month.  And yes, he makes me happy too..

6] Who is the most ANNOYING person you have ever known?  oh, and WHY...
   
   Hmm the most annoying person.  Well I can probably name ten but the one
that comes to mind is this girl Erin that me and my friend Fu met crossing
country a couple of years ago.  Its a really long story but essentially she
was this rich girl from Texas that we met in New Orleans and we were really
broke and she was filthy rich and she promised us all this money and riches
if we came to visit her in Arlington so we drove up there and she flaked on
us in a big way and one thing led to another and we ended up in jail.  The
whole situation was annoying but I guess I'd say that she was the biggest
cuntrag i've ever had to deal with.

7] What direction do you see your zine heading in? (this one begs for jokes)

   Well i'm not really sure.  My main zine Whatever Ramblings is on hold
right now because I became disillusioned with the whole zine world and had to
do something new.  I suppose I'd say that WR is probably already where it'll
be forever.  The last few issues have been distributed worldwide and it has a
small but devout readership which never really gets bigger or smaller unless
some big magazine like Sassy or some other shit tells a million 17 year olds
that zines are cool, in which situation I usually sell about a hundred more
each issue.  My new E-Print zine Red Dye Number Five which is mainly
compilations of stories is just beginning but I think it may do well assuming
that I can get the same distro as WR has.

8] Toilet Paper - Folded or Crumpled?

   I think thats a pretty unconscious decision like maybe determined by genes
or something.  I'm not methodical or patient enough to fold toilet paper to
merely wipe my ass which implies that I just crumple it up.

9] If you were to die tomorrow and wanted to leave one quote that everyone 
   would remember you by, what would that be?

   Well if I died tomorrow..hmm..Probably something like, "Okay, I'm dead now
so buy my zine already."

10] What would be the first thing that came to your mind when I say "zine"?

   I think years ago i'd say "obscurity," now I guess now i'd say "trendy".


=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=----=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=
|                     Grayarea, of the 'zine Grayareas                       |
=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=----=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=


1] How the poop did you ever originally get such a spiffy god-damned handle?

   i got my handle from the name of the magazine, gray areas. it was an
attempt to be honest and stuff about who i am. bad move. if i had it to do
over again, i'd have lied to everyone. they mostly all lied to me :)

2] How old were you and what was it that got you into this whole shin-dig?

   i got into the scene in the early 1970s when i was in high school. i used
a calling card number found in a yippie zine and got caught by the operator.
my cousin agreed to pay for the call and that ended my career as a phreak. i
got into the scene again when i bought an IBM clone in 1991. i got REALLY
into the scene after i started Gray Areas.

3] Why do you continue doing such socially IMPORTANT work?

    why do i stay? some of the people i have met make it worth it. but it's a
question i have to ask myself again and again as what passes for hacking is
often stalking, sexual harassment and slander/libel.

4] Do you have a life?  If so, what are some real world interests of yours?

    my real world interests include video games, movies, cats, sushi, travel
to meet the hackers who appeal to me, reading, concerts and late night
conversations.

5] What person in the world is the /<-RaDDeZT eleet guy dat makes you happy?

    what person makes me the happiest? no one person can fill all of my
needs.  but the hacker you are asking about knows who he is and doesn't need
me to tell u. :)

6] Who is the most ANNOYING person you have ever known?  oh, and WHY...

    i am quite sure i have not met the world's most annoying person yet. i
know they will wake me up sometime soon though :)

7] What direction do you see your zine heading in? (this one begs for jokes)

   Gray Areas will probably keep adding more and more pages as more and more
people come forward to express their two cents. We print all points of view
and new things become legal/illegal all the time so we'll never lack for
material. I hope to get around to putting up a web page later this year.

8] Toilet Paper - Folded or Crumpled?

   toilet paper can be either folded or crumpled as long as it's Northern
brand.

9] If you were to die tomorrow and wanted to leave one quote that everyone 
   would remember you by, what would that be?

   i'd ideally like to be cremated and have my ashes scattered in a specific
spot in San Francisco, but failing that since only one person knows where
that spot is, i'd like my tombstone to say "Don't judge me too harshly." In
case you're wondering, that's what Brian Jones' (of the Rolling Stones) says
on it... I also hope i die rich enough to leave $2500 for my friends to have
a party with like Janis Joplin did. The courts were never able to resolve who
her friends were and the party never happened :)

10] What would be the first thing that came to your mind when I say "zine"?

   The first thing that comes to my mind when i hear the word zine is some
fool mispronouncing it "z-eye-ne." it's zine as in rhymes with scene. Zines
are publications which print under 100,000 copies. They are almost always
operated at a financial loss and they usually are published late. Most fail.
A few grow and give the rest hope they may someday crawl out of the lobster
pot.


=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=----=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=
|                        U4EA, of the 'zine BoW                              |
=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=----=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=


1) How the poop did you ever originally get such a spiffy god-damned handle?
   
   My original handle was Abysmal Euphoria which was then shortened to U4EA 
once i found the wonderful little world of irc.  Abysmal Euphoria was also
the name of the band i was in at the time, i didnt realize there was a mod
writer from the UK with a similar handle at the time.  ie: U4ia.  I get alot
of confused people asking me if i write mods and stuff.  Oh well, I've had
alot of handles over the years but the one that has really stuck is U4EA.

2) How old were you and what was it that got you into this whole shin-dig?
 
   I was 14 when i got my 1st computer, a commodore vic 20..

3) Why do you continue doing such socially IMPORTANT work?
 
   Im an environmentally conscious guy, what can i say??!

4) Do you have a life?  If so, what are some real world interests of yours?
   
   I have a pretty active life i would say, i do alot of skiing in the
winter, I also enjoy music alot, i've played in several bands over the
years and actively write both music and poetry all the time.  My main
interest right now is hanging out with my gf and just enjoying life...

5) What person in the world is the /<-RaDDeZT eleet guy dat makes you happy?
   
   SN is my lord and master.

6) Who is the most ANNOYING person you have ever known?  oh, and WHY...
 
   Snoop Doggy Dog and those that listen to that style of music...

7) What direction do you see your zine heading in? (this one begs for jokes)
 
   my zine no longer exists, dont know if i'll write another issue of BoW,
can't see it happening for awhile, i have too many other projects on the go.

8) Toilet Paper - Folded or Crumpled?
  
   as long as its soft and doesnt rip the hell out of my anus i dont care.

9) If you were to die tomorrow and wanted to leave one quote that everyone 
   would remember you by, what would that be?  <evil grin action>
 
   /signoff you all suck

10) What would be the first thing that came to your mind when I say "zine"?
 
   v0mit.


=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=----=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=
|                       Y-WINDoZE, of the 'zine PuD                          |
=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=----=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=


   aRGH@#!@#!@!1  As much as I love y, i tried forever to get him to fill out
this survey file.  _finally_ i got him to agree to answer the questions on
IRC and i'd log it all.  well, guess what?  MY l0G FILE G0T K0RRUPTED!@#!@1
aRGh@#@!!1

   So, I got this little tiny sliver of the interview that i recovered.  I
would make an attempt to relay the answers that i remembered, but i'd feel
pretty lame not taking exact words, so sorry.

   HMPH.  

<mogel> do you have a life?  if so what are your real-world interests?

<y> uhm at the present time, I do nothing, I hang around with friends and talk
    about women.  i like bball a lot.

<mogel> Toilet Paper - Folded or Crumpled?

<y> FOLDED@#$
<y> FOLDED@#$
<y> FOLDED@#$

<mogel> If you were to die tomorrow and wanted to leave one quote that
        everyone would remember you by, what would that be?

<y> "Some days Im like God, and others, I'm just better."

<mogel> how about with hax0ring?

<y> I didnt do it.

<mogel> how did you start up pud?

<y> uhm me and NoCourier were at a friends house drunk off ou rasses on pga
        one night when we wrote the first ever *unreleased* issue

<mogel> where is no courier now?

<y> last I heard going to cali with his bands, prolly in jail

<mogel> who is exactly "da pud crew"?

<y> uhm lets see.  there is I, bpahomet, hymie, no courier, dsaint and
        squinky are the main du0udz

<mogel> What would be the first thing that came to your mind when I say
        "zine"?

<y> Stupid art fags with too much free time


=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=----=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=
|                        Erikb, of the 'zine Phrack                          |
=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=----=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=


1) How the poop did you ever originally get such a spiffy god-damned handle?

   I was reading a book on vikings a long time ago and liked the whole
Erik Bloodaxe story.  Besides, everyone needs a handle, and my first
name is Erik.

2) How old were you and what was it that got you into this whole shin-dig?

   I was very young.  I was even younger when I got into the whole undergound
thing.  I was 11 when I broke into my first computer. 

   What got me into all this?  Too much spare time.   

3) Why do you continue doing such socially IMPORTANT work?

   Ego.

4) Do you have a life?  If so, what are some real world interests of yours?

   I have no life.  My existence revolves around the computer world. However,
the few distractions that rip me from the clutches of my evil terminal
addiction are:

      sex
      drugs
      70's music
      all kinds of weird frequencies (dc to daylight, by god if its passing 
          through my body, its mine to demodulate)
      travel
      money

5) What person in the world is the /<-RaDDeZT eleet guy dat makes you happy?

   Chris Goggans

6) Who is the most ANNOYING person you have ever known?  oh, and WHY...

   Everybody annoys me...so I can't really narrow it down to one single
person who would qualify as "the most annoying."

      People who drive like shit annoy me.
      People who bug me for things annoy me.
      People who ask when the next issue of Phrack is coming out annoy me.
      People who dig around in my room annoy me.
      People who play music too loud during the middle of the day annoy me.
      People like you annoy me.

7) What direction do you see your zine heading in? (this one begs for jokes)

   I see Phrack heading on a crash course straight into the sun.

   or

   I see Phrack becoming a slick glossy full-color magazine backed by money 
from Mitch Kapor.  We'll focus on hot topics of interest to the "in-crowd"
and treat them with a high level of journalistic integrity.  We'll take Kai's
Power Tools and stretch it to a whole new level of utilization.  We'll take
the whole style and format of International Design magazine and claim it as
out own.  We'll be the #1 benchmark for "HIP" in the 90's.  We will rule
above all others.  

8) Toilet Paper - Folded or Crumpled?

   Folded & Crumpled ... it depends upon the consistency of the stool.

9) If you were to die tomorrow and wanted to leave one quote that everyone 
   would remember you by, what would that be?  <evil grin action>

   Yeah, I fucked her.

10) What would be the first thing that came to your mind when I say "zine"?

   Mine is cooler.

-eof
______________________________________________________________________________

News> group alt.angst.for.donuts

%NEWS-I-GRPSET, current newsgroup now alt.angst.for.donuts
-NEWS-I-GRPINFO, articles [567,570], 4 unseen

News> read

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alt.angst.for.donuts                      article 567 of [567,570] (3 unseen)

From: corrosion@hoe.org (Corrosion)
Subject: don't read this
Organization: NKOTB Preservation Society
Lines: 26

This will not apply to you.  This is not a personal attack.  This is just my
view.

An open letter to the majority of America's youth:

My opinion means nothing.  Yours means even less.  In your striving to be so 
different, so original, you have created a mockery, and sadly a trend.  Your
Cobain haircuts stand together in a sea of conformity. Not conformity to the
quo, but conformity to each other.  The ideals that started the genre are
lost in your shallow voices.  Your new shirts of the bands that play your
music cling to your flannel.  But you've had the shirt you're wearing for a
while now, and I'm wrong.  The music that spits out band after band of
packaged rebellion, that plants a 3 minute hummable hook so deep into your 
cheek that you believe it to be your own.  Your petty aggression puked out in 
a 4 chord progression repeated into infinity.  Being fed the same baby food
by the corporate industry that keeps you shut out from the world around you. 
But you've had a bad day and your girlfriend is bitching at you for not
getting Nine Inch Nails tickets.  The music industry is a conglomerate whore,
and you my friend are it's best customer.  This trend feeds on the struggle
to be different and unique by offering you the same bubble gum rewrapped in
ugly paper, what it thinks you can identify with.  The vehicle is the same
though,  the lifestyle is pounded into your head over and over, the radio,
MTV, and magazines all spoon feeding you what you WILL like.  Change the
channel, switch the station, turn the TV off.  

        -Corrosion
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News> next

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alt.angst.for.donuts                      article 568 of [568,570] (2 unseen)

From: cstone@free.org (Stone)
Subject: you people are morons@!#!
Organization: BAH (Yes, we _know_ that we suck!)
Lines: 39

the disease of many is ignorance and stupidity. 

people today are having unprotected sex for some lame reason like "it doesn't
feel good" or "i don't want my penis to look discolored". those aren't
reasons.  a reason is something like "i want to get herpes and then go on a
crusade to start a pandemic". i would acknowledge that as a good reason.
 
you see, people bitch about how computer privacy is being invaded. well,
quit fucking BITCHING about it and find another way to keep your kidporn
pictures private. there's many ways.
 
people are stupid enough to follow other stupid people with the same
stupidity disease, and those people just follow other stupid people, so,
when you get down to it, you have a bunch of herpes-infected stupid people
sitting in a circle fucking each other with no condoms. and the circle
repeats itself.
 
and the kids born from stupid people fucking each other with herpes and no
condoms are even stupider than their parents. so, we get stupid kids
thinking its cool to have red, blistering sores on their father's penis,
so we get kids that think it's uncool to cover it up with a condom. and the
stupidity disease perpetuates itself again, until everyone in america has
herpes except those people who aren't infected by the stupidity disease
dies out, and the world is named after Kennedy of MTV.
 
many people infected with the stupidity disease listen to rap. they like it
because it repeatedly deals with rape and having unprotected sex. they like
this. they also like it because they can't understand the lyrics, and that
means none of their stupid friends could either, so they can't look stupid
next to them. that's cool also.
 
people infected with the disease drink and do drugs so it'll make them even
stupider. they do it because their stupid friends do it, and because
there's no guilt in having unprotected sex when you're stoned off your ass.
 
lots of people infected with the stupidity disease join gangs, because they
can get money, guns, sex, drugs, and liquor for free!!@!@#@#$%#$ this
is like a god for them.

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News> next

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alt.angst.for.donuts                      article 569 of [569,570] (1 unseen)

From: sedative@escape.com (Sed)
Subject: Angry Peace
Organization: The Angst Empire
Lines: 118
   
   Everywhere I look, I see bullshit.  In this whole world, everyone is
bending over backwards to impress each other.  Everyone is trying to be
something they're not, so they can become something they're not.

   Recently I had the unfortunate experience of doing short term work at an
office.  The whole office setting has probably turned me off from ever doing
white collar work forever.  This is supposed to be the creme de la creme,
where you go once you graduate from your ivy league university and are
groomed by a big faceless multi-national corporation, but it was pure misery.
You had people who were at each other's necks, were severely overworked and
constantly appeared "busy" for the boss, who appeared more interested in
after-hours activities with the secretary then filing out the forms.  And
this is what every kid is set to be by his mom - in a nice office with a
comfy view of the city from the 60th floor.  But all of it was the same
bullshit you'll find working in a burger king, a library, or wherever.

   People just fed up with each other and near-despair, yet hanging onto the
jobs because for better or worse the jobs are all they have to define them.
They spent their high school years studying when they could've been partying,
joining clubs they had contempt for so they could get into a good college so
mom and dad won't call them a failure.  Then once in university, they deny
themselves any pleasure and make themselves slaves to work and studying so
they can get a good resume.  Finally, they end up with a decent position in a
corporation - but then what?

   You aren't happy, home life is a wreck, your day is split between a
computer, your car commuting home, and a bed where you sleep and that's it.
What a crock.  I, for one, would rather be a unemployed freelance writer
speaking my thoughts, surviving on brand-x doritos in a studio apartment,
yet happy with myself, then be making 80,000 plus dollars a year in a
corporation where I'm nothing more then a human database.  Bah.  _I'll_
define my job, not let my job define me.

   Heh.  Figures I'd have hate for everything, huh?  Well, it's with good
reason.  For every day since I was born, my whole life has alternated between
rage, despair and alienation.  Sometimes I just tried to hold everything in
so I wouldn't become a freak and then it all just backfired.  I took such
shit at day camp.  I was afraid to fight back.  Then one day, all the rage
inside of me just exploded - I just had this urge to do something that had an
effect - to break out of this little prison.  I was literally exploding.  I
went over to this kid who I never met before in my life and pushed him into a
four foot pool.  And he was maybe 4'3" and had a hard time swimming.  This
was when I was seven.  I got expelled from camp for that.  At camp I was beat
up every fucking day cause I didn't fit in.  I was too tall, too fat, too
nerdy, too much of a speech impediment, I was just this stupid misfit kid who
earned the wrath of a entire camp.  So finally I exploded and it collapsed on
me.

   Another time was when I was twelve years old.  I was in school, again I
was taking lots of shit from people.  So when I couldn't stand it anymore, I
exploded.  I was in the principals office with another kid I was arguing
with, and suddenly (it was just like a urge, or inspiration, I'm still not
sure what) I just shoved him to the floor.  Then I punched him in the face.
I couldn't believe what happened.  Twelve years of shit, feces and anger
exploded in 30 seconds of bottled violence.  I got expelled from school.

   At home, situation was no better.  My parents were just soulless piles of
fat who sheltered me.  They were grooming me to grow up to be a good little
doctor, lawyer, or whatever a nice middle-class jewish suburban kid should
grow up to be.  They sheltered me as a kid, gave me a circle of friends who
were all lobotomized zombies, who resigned to their fate of future-yuppiedom
who I could not stand.  They never let me out of the house unless I was with
an adult, not even to walk outside.  I started a conversation when I was like
four with some kid across the street, I was dragged away being told "not to
talk to strangers."

   This went on until school started.  Then in kindergarten I was all fucked
up.  My parents deprived me of fucking social skills and left me for the
kill.  And then what?  THEY DIDN'T GIVE A FUCKING SHIT!  They told me it was
because the other kids were jealous of me.  Ha, right.  They were too afraid
to admit they bred a frankenstein.  When she spread her legs, she spawned a
pile of shit.  Shit that every time it showed a glimmer of potential was
crushed under the boots of everyone else.  Probably the only saving grace,
that without I definitely would have become a druggie, suicide victim, or run
away from home was music, specifically the punk rock scene.  When your 13,
just beginning to question the answers, you look like a jock yet your a freak
inside.  Then, I discovered real music.  Not crap like _Nirvana_ or _Guns and
Roses_, who fed on exploiting kids feelings and diverting their rebellion into
arena rock tours and double albums.  People who actually were in the same
situation as you, angry as fuck, and fed up with the situation.  It gave me
something to live for.  And now, today, punk has gone commercial.  Everyone
is buying into it. punk is becoming the 90's equivalent of hair metal.  A
music stripped of its potential, just a vehicle for adolescent death and
destruction fantasies.  Fuck, it ain't worth it.

   I break myself.  I like to destroy my body.  That mess of skin, bones and
nerves is nothing more then fodder for bullshit.  I look like a fucking jock.
As soon as puberty hit, I went from a fat, lisping, tall nerd to a beer-
bellied, mumbling, "too-goddamn-tall" freak.  I needed to break things, to
destroy myself and others.  For the first time in my goddamn life, I had
power over stuff.  And I abused it.  I beat up everyone I didn't like.  I
shoved every drug I could find down every orifice in my body.  I pierced
things with the urge just to differentiate myself from every other loser.  I
ended up like a goddamn jigsaw puzzle.  I was cut up.  Fuck that.

   On the news right now is a report on graffiti.  Mayor guliani is
participating in the cleaning up of graffiti. he is calling it vandalism.
Bullshit.  One more example of the buergoise exercising their iron fist over
the poor.  A can of spray paint is all some people have to mourn a dead
friend, or to express their feelings.  Like it or not, not everyone can
afford a mausoleum, or have the skills to write a poem.  To some people, this
is the art of the cities.  It's the spirit of the city reclaiming the cold
bullshit, the graffiti causing a kind of organic web unifying the city.
Graffiti gives the streets a image.  Something more then a collection of
buildings, it is impossible to put into words.  To stop graffiti, they are
distributing "Captain Graffiti" coloring books.  What a damn-great idea!
Give the kids coloring books and suddenly the big bad "nigger 'n spic" art
will go bye bye Mr. Urban Planner!  Now all we need is Captain Gang Warfare,
Captain Poverty, Captain Drug Abuse, Captain No Hope For a Job, Captain
Racism and we'll have a perfect world for sure.  Uhh, I don't think so.

   Speaking of solving non-problems through half-assed ideas, I can't believe
how close minded a good amount of people are.  I have gotten way too many
insults hurled my way because I dyed my hair green last week.  I've been
shouted at "PUKE-HAIR!" by people across the street, the "G" in my summer
school biology class spent his time laughing his ass off at it, I got a beer
bottle thrown at me because of it.  Bullshit.  You don't fit in, society puts
pressure on you to fit in.  Goddamn wrong.  Let me be.
 
 __   __   _
|    |    |  \   every generation had there chance, now its our turn -SFA
|__  |__  |  |        let theory of the anger be the power -The Clash
   | |    |  | Freedom of speech is a FREEDOM, not a priveledge. Please tell
 __| |__  |_/     Jesse Helms & James Exon that before we're all gagged.
    flat earth society BBS - 718.698.7865 All the texts around & then some
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News> next

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alt.angst.for.donuts                      article 570 of [570,570] (0 unseen)

From: chris@iquest.com (Y-WINDoZE)
Subject: Re: Angry Peace
Organization: Pizza Underground Digest
Lines: 63
   
Sed> insults hurled my way because I dyed my hair green last week.  I've been
Sed> shouted at "PUKE-HAIR!" by people across the street, the "G" in my
Sed> summer school biology class spent his time laughing his ass off at it, I
Sed> got a beer bottle thrown at me because of it.  Bullshit.  You don't fit
Sed> in, society puts pressure on you to fit in.  Goddamn wrong.  Let me be.

      "y0!@#  Fuck you. Fuck everything you stand for. Fuck your mom,
      your cat, and your god. I hate you. You're trash. You're pathetic.
      I hate you. I hate you!@ I HatE y0U!@#"

  Quite boring, eh? I would tend to agree. The sad part is the above
represents the supposed views and opinions being expressed by most "e'zine"
writers these days. The simple fact is angst will always be in and as long as
you sit there and worship the talentless hacks who write it you will be
subjected to it. Time and time again you will be forced to read how pathetic
you are, how angry the writer is, how at error the whole damn world is. Is
that what you really want?

  Text has always been a place where angry views were expressed. The problem
with it in current times is that the views being expressed are quite simply
shallow and misguided. These views tend to be expressed by 16 year old middle
class high school rejects. These are the same kids who 10 years ago bid their
time until college where they could shine and trounce those who had spurned
them. Today, they don't have that escape since everyone goes to college and
thanks to modern things like computers you don't even need much knowledge to
do what was once a difficult task. Instead these poor souls turn to writing.

  Writing with power and writing with angst are different. Yet in many ways
they are the same. Both carry strong convictions and invoke powerful feelings
in the reader. However writings with angst doesn't balance feelings with
reality. They are pure emotions written down solely for the purpose of
lashing out and hurting all those who have hurt the writer. This process
isn't productive for the writer; especially when people read it and confuse
with deep powerful writing.

  Angst in itself isn't a bad tool to have when writing. In fact it can be
quite beneficial in a number of ways. First it does give you power and
feelings when there may not be any to begin with. Second anger tends to focus
one, granted this focus is generally misguided but with proper patience it
can be wielded the correct way. Using angst in writing is just like using any
other tool, it must be used correctly and in most cases sparingly. Oversue of
angst leads to boring, pedantic texts that hold little true meaning and
quickly fade away from the reader's mind.

  Powerful writing on the other hand isn't one singularity. It is a collage
of all one's skills, talents and beliefs so well thought out and planned that
it conveys emotions and feelings to the reader that no picture or sound will
ever achieve. "How do I write powerful moving images?" you may wonder. That
is where I become of little help for I write only for myself and much of what
I write is angst ridden, boring, pedantic, shallow, misguided, and so many
more negative things it would take me days to list. But I have an advantage.
I know my writings are bad in all these ways and everytime I sit down to vent
anger I get a little better in shadowing, tucking it away, making the reader
have to peer just a little to see.

  One day I am confident I will be able to write as powerful as I want, so
powerful that I could achieve anything with a single paragraph but even if
that day never comes at least I know I didn't waste all my time saying the
same thing everyday to please some finicky, band-wagon jumping audience.

[Note the angst]

alrighty then, y

______________________________________________________________________________


News> group alt.2600

%NEWS-I-GRPSET, current newsgroup now alt.2600
-NEWS-I-GRPINFO, articles [308562,954210], 645648 unseen

News> read

______________________________________________________________________________
                                                                             
alt.2600                    article 308562 of [308562,954210] (645647 unseen)

From: squinky@pud.org (sQuinky)
Subject: The True story of Emmanuelle Goldstein and Erik Corley
Organization: Pizza Underground Digest
Lines: 232

                  _______________________________
                  |   The True story            |
                  |   of Emmanuelle Goldstein   | 
                  |   and Erik Corley           |
                  |                             |
                  |     compiled by, -sQuinky-  |
                  |_____________________________|

Foreward:

Emmanuelle Goldstein, after retiring from his/her career as a successful
Italian Porno Queen of movie, Television and more, came to the states to
start up HaKkur phreedom. GRRRRRRRR#@! WE ARE HACKERS WE DO NOTHING WRONG
GRRRRRR#@! STOP PERSECUTING US#!@ GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR#@!@!$

                       HACKER ANGST#@! GGGGGGRRRRRRRR#@!

He startd up the fine organization known as 2600 magazine, named after the
famous Atari system. Emmanuelle was a great fan of Asteroids and Space 
Invaders.

A few years after all this, Emmanuelle met up with erik COrLey.  After a
period of friendship, their relationship became something more. 

Escape#! ESCAPE#@! ESCAPE INTO EMMANUELLE'S ANAL PASSAGE#@!

Soon.... SOoon. Erik Corely made the ESCAPE into the land of Chocolate love
and Milk Shakes. Emmanuelle was used to that, as he/she had stared in the
thousands of Italian prono books/movies/andwhatnot.(See :"Emmanuelle
Goldstein's Amazon Adventure"), and had already gotten used to Fudgy Fun and
Protein Diets.
 
THe following are letters from Erik Corely and Emmanuelle Goldstein to 17
magazine, written under aliases of course.
 
Erik Corley == Help me Escape from all this
Emmanulle GOldstein == 2600 Publisher

End of Forward.

Beginning of Body:

--------------------------------------

dEar 17 mAGAZINe, 

I have recently started a relationship with a older, more experienced man. 
It has quickly moved it sex, and other things. Unfortunately, I am not sure
about some things that my other wants to do. He has perverse desires to stick
Atari 2600 controllers up my ass, and use my body to play SUPER PONG 2000:
THE NEXT GENERATION, and Space Invaders. He also wants to put on a glove, 
shove his fist down my throat, and them make me smell it. 
  
Are these things OK?

                                             Sincerley Yours,
                                                Help Me escape from all this

Dear Help Me escape from all this,
 
While it may seem to you that these, and probably other, sex accts are
abnormal we here at 17 Magazine feel that they are completely, and 100% ok.
We personally don't see anything wrong with some electronic sex.
 
--------------------------------------

DEar 17 Magazine:
 
As of late, my younger, and less experienced lover has started to ask me to
masturbate along side of him. While I enjoy masturbation, I feel it should be
done in private, and kept to oneself. It is a very personal thing, and I
don't see why he wants to watch my masturbate.
 
Also, he wants me to do this while I am out trying to save the innocent
hakkurs from the big bad oppresive government.

What Should I do?
                                          SIncerly Yours, 
                                               2600 Publisher
 
Dear 2600,
 
Try to explain to your young lover that you are not comfortable with this. If
he persists in his demands on you, stick a 2600 joystick up his ass and play
SUPER PONG 2000: THE NEXT GENERATION and Space Invaders.

--------------------------------------

Dear 17 Magazine:
 
Recently, I have been having problems with my older boyfriend. While I love
him, and would do just about anything for him, he is starting to put weird
demands on me. 
 
A few weeks ago, he asked me to piss in a tub, and then jerk off while he
drinks it up. 
 
YEsterday, he asked me if I wanted to dress up with him like members of
Milli Vanilli, and Lipsync at a queer talent show. 
 
Today, he told me he was going to paint my penis red, so I wouldn't notice
the blood.
 
(this is really upsetting to me, because there is nothing I like better than
watching his anus bleed as my huge, thick, turgent man-shaft penetrates his
little puckered opening.)
 
What should I do?

                                                         Sincerley,
                                                 Help me escape from all this 
 
Dear Escape,
 
WHy not go along with these things? All relationships must develop some level
of kinkiness. Dr. Joyce Brothers has informed us that these are in fact
normal experiences, of all couples. In fact, she says, 50% of all
relationships has similiar, if not the same experiences that you and your
lover have. So, Pee in the tub, Dress up like Milli Vanilli, and Paint your
penis red.
 
--------------------------------------

Dear 17 Magazine,

Yesterday, while my lover and I were both jerking off into a glass, so we
could have something to drink with our turkey dinner, something strange 
happened. 
 
My lover told me that he and I should go out and rape some little kids, and
then kill them, and then fuck them again.

I have no real problems with this, but am worried about getting caught. I
mean if we get caught, can we really go to jail for this?
 
(And would going to jail be all that of a bad thing, considering the stories
of anal love, for me?)
 
Do you have any advice to avoid capture?
 
                                                     Sincerly YOurs,
                                                             2600 Editor

Dear 2600,
 
Here is some advice from our resident Child Molester, Mike labbe.
 
1. Do not get caught.
2. Always go after the children who are loners.
3. When Dumping the bodies, make sure you first remove all the childrens
teeth, cut off their fingers, and horribly mutilate their faces.

--------------------------------------

Dear 17 magazine,
 
My significant Other has recently found a new sex toy.
 
A dent puller.
 
I personally love the toy, as it is *GREAT* *ESTATIC* fun to have that big
piece of metal show in your puckered asshole, and feel the pull of the love.
My other loves the feel of the hard metal of love too.
 
However, as of today, I am starting to feel a discomforting feeling. I feel
it is due to the dent puller, can you please help me in discovering some
rememdy, or precaution against this feeling. While any feeling in the anus
is pleasent, this feeling is almost annoying, in that it makes me long for
the dent puller, or any object, and I can not very well shove a dildo up my
ass at work.
 
(at least, while I'm not on break)
 
                                            Sincerley,
                                          Help me escape from all this
 
Dear Help,

One can often alievate the symptoms of dent puller love by using Vasoline
intesive care. 

To *PREVENT* the symptoms, you can tke obvious, and definately less fun
choice of not pulling your anus.
 
For less effective prevention, try getting rid of the rust on the dent
puller, before you pull your anus.

--------------------------------------

Dear 17,

Recently, my lover and I have been hanging out with a few new kids on the 
block. They go by the names of : BEANIE and X.
 
Let me tell you a little bit about them:
 
BEANIE has been arrested for public drunkness, and telling a police officer
to "MAKE MY DAY, YOU FAT GREASY PIG". Beanie also: no longer has a car or
cool women. Beanie also got beat up by a Wildcat Sysop. BEANIE also demanded
that some issues of PuD be re-released, with his brand gnu handle : 
NO COURiER put in place of his real, and father-given Name. 

X is a rough n tumble d0ud who will beat up people who hit on his girlfriend.
Consequently, X is a rough n tumble d0ud who gets his ass thrown into boot
camp. He is probably going to kick my ass for writing this letter. I will
probably have to blow him to make things better.
 
                                               Sincerly Yours,
                                              Emanuel... uh shit.. How do 
                                               I edit stuff with VI?
                                                uh.. uh.. 2600 Editor

Dear Emanuel... uh shit.. how do I edit stuff with VI? uh.. uh.. 2600 editor

I have no real opinion of X. Not every one can get busted for beating the
crap out of some guy over a big fat hispanic momma named "Lolita", so you
might want to stay friends with him, if for nothing else, amusement purposes.
 
This beanie character sounds like  real trouble, and you should probably stay
away from him. Anyone who gets HIS ASS KICKED BY A WILDCAT SYSOP is trouble.

--------------------------------------
 
D0UDS I have read 17 magazine for the past few months, and compiled all these
letters for an ex-po-se. 
 
What have we learned from all this?
 
Emanuelle Goldstein should have stuck to the Italien porn industry, and that
I can write shit about people I don't even know.
 
KEEP THE WAREZ ALIVE: CIRCULATE THE BOXES ISSUE OF PHRACK
______________________________________________________________________________


News> last!@#@!@#!@#!!1

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alt.2600                    article 954210 of [954210,954210] (645645 unseen)

From: NO-AMA@ninja.org (U4EA)
Subject: "EZ HaqN"
Organization: Br0therh0od of WaReZ
Lines: 111

[First Verse]

Mah name is U4EA, mah skriptz R kewl
Cum 2 mah office and I'll show ya mah tool...

Gotta get da newbies, they all insane
God gave me uh gift, so I can fuck with their brain...

'gotta 3 inch floppy, but I wish it was hard
Fire up mah email so I can flame that 'tard...

But Relay Chat gotta be mah favourite game
I steal that nick, I slander that name...

[Chorus]

'cause I'm da biggest hacker, don'tcha mess with me
I can get rewt... gimmy bash, perl, and C...

[Second Verse]

Yeah, I'm da shit who started the net
TCP/IP... heh, I wrote it on a bet...

'cause I'm the main man, your momma's mah skeeze
with one little command, your sister's on her knees...

>From Netcum 2 Hong Kong, MCI 2 MIT
'have rewt on 'em all... I broke security...

Mark mah words, and tremble with fear
When I'm finished with mah hacking, you'll be left in tearz...

[Chorus]

'cause I'm da biggest hacker, don'tcha mess with me
My werd iz the rule, from netnews 2 I R C...

[Third Verse]

You have SATAN, hah, Dan Farmer's a loon
I wrote that shit, took me one afternoon...

Takeover on mah channel, and I dunno the key
I'll just nook your fuckin' ass with an ICMP...

Da girls on da net, they all a buncha ho's
'cept 4 mah girlfriends, they know how it goes...

Jus' some respect, it's easy yah see
I'll give ya some if ya give me some, 
just get in bed with me...

[Chorus]

I'm da biggest hacker, don'tcha mess with me
I'll rock yer wurld from here 2 D.C....

[Fourth Verse]

Look at da laymah, he's such a dickwad
Don't bother me now, I'm on a mission from God...

Incorrect login?!!? Hey, what the fuck?
I'll show that admin whose dick he can suck...

Oh, hell, just a second, dat's all it'll take
I'll hack in again, and let da hard disks rake...

Knock knock! What, the feds at the door? 
Hell, no, another skeezer to score...

[Chorus]

'cause I'm da biggest hacker, don'tcha mess with me
I'll hack yer mailbox, post it so all can see...

[Fifth Verse]

Look at this luser, a newbie at the helm
Just a quick little mailbomb, fuck her up with elm...

Drop by channel #talk, give 'em all whiplash
I'll give 'em a taste of mah UNIX talk flash...

Look at dat boy, he's headed off 2 jail
Little do they know, *I* sent that mail...

Da net is a playground, it's all a big game
Compared 2 me, yer all fuckin' lame...

[Chorus]

'cause I'm da biggest hacker, don'tcha mess with me
I'll fuck ya up and route your packets to *.se...

... (you know what I'm sayin, bitch?) ...

Drop on into #warez, "Yo homey, got some new shit for me?"

... (filtered at the router, a pain in the neck) ...


	
click*


"Young man, shouldn't you be in bed? You've got school in the morning..."

"Aww, mom!  I'm just talking to some friends on the IRC."

"You can play with your computer this weekend and after school. Bedtime."


	
** Signoff: U4EA (Error 0)


______________________________________________________________________________


News> group alt.fan.warez

-NEWS-I-GRPSET, current newsgroup now alt.fan.warez
-NEWS-I-GRPINFO, articles [2187,2192], 6 unseen

News> read

______________________________________________________________________________

alt.fan.warez                         article 2187 of [2187,2192], (5 unseen)

From: cheese@hoe.org (Dead Cheese/pEz)
Subject: Cyber Divinity
Organization: pEz Monthly
Lines: 73

            K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!
            K!K!                                          K!K!
            K!K!             "Cyber Divinity"             K!K!
            K!K!                                          K!K!
            K!K!                         by Dead Cheese   K!K!
            K!K!                                          K!K!
            K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!
                               
   
   A long time ago, there was a crystal table of circular shape.  It was
surrounded by nothingness and space, except for the occasionally pulse of 
light that would speed by the table.  On the edges of the table, sat two 
crystal chairs, opposite each other.  In the two chairs sat the most powerful
beings existent at that time.  These are the gods of cyberspace.
   "I grow tired of this drudgery.  Let us create something new," said the god
of feds.  He was dressed in a three-piece suit and a briefcase sat upon his 
lap.  His black-rimmed glasses slipped down to the end of his nose and he 
frowned over them, showing wrinkles that prove he does this often.
   "Yes.  My chosen people have nothing to do.  Nothing to further their 
lives with.  All they do is sit around on their beds and masturbate to the 
latest Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition," said the god of geeks and 
dweebs.  He was wearing a Kiss t-shirt, beat up corduroy pants, and had on 
glasses with thick, black, plastic frames.  The latest issue of Dragon 
magazine was sticking out of his back pocket.
   "Yet, what should we create?  Hmm... How about more rules and regulations?
That's always fun.  It makes the dweebs so angry and then they shout silly,
little phrases such as, 'I don't have to do what you say, pizza face!'  Haha!
I love that one.  Or, one of my favorites, 'Die, feds!  Anarchy forever!'  
They're such idiotic little creatures, your people."
   "No, I do not like that idea.  My people are oppressed enough as it is, 
what with having to go to bed at 9pm every night, and not being allowed to
turn their glam-rock up loud enough.  In fact, how about we _take_away_ some
rules so that my geeks and dweebs may feel the freshness of anarchy?"
   "What?!  Are you mad?!!  Do you not realize that will mean my people will
have less control, and therefore make less money?!  That is insane.  Do not
speak of such evil things, or I will be made angry with you."
   "I'm sick of your oppression!  You're an egotistical, self-centered, 
power-hungry bureaucrat and I am tired of your meaningless rules you have set
upon my people!  Get hip to my anarchy!"
   The god of geeks and dweebs stood up, grabbed his crystal chair, and threw
it at the god of feds.  The god was easily powerful enough to take a blow 
from any ordinary object, however the chair was powerful in its own right.  
It was forged with the blood of AT&T factory workers and given power great 
enough to support beings of such magnitude.  When this object of such power 
met the chest of a god, it shattered into many millions of pieces.  Each tiny
shard ripping a small hole in the body of the god of feds.
   "What have you done?!" the voice of the god of feds boomed.  "For this you
shall pay!"
   Having said that, the bleeding god took hold of his own crystal chair, 
hefted it over his shoulder, and threw with all his divine might.  The chair
smashed into the chest of the god of geeks and dweebs, but did not shatter.  
With the force of such an impact from such a powerful item, the god's body 
shuddered... and cracked.
   Looking down at the fissure now separating Ace Frehley's head from the 
rest of his freakish body on the god's t-shirt, the god of geeks and dweebs
was horrified.  "Look at what you have done!  There is a crack in my being!
I am broken!"
   "Yes!  And this is the way you should be!  Forever parted, never whole!"
   Saying this, the god of feds raised his great fist and brought it to bear
on the crack in the middle of the god of geeks and dweebs' chest.  The god 
shattered.  
   From the god of unbound power came six brother gods of minor power.  From 
the god's brain came the god of t-files.  From his pelvis, the god of porn.  
From his eyes came the god of ansi and d00dleboys.  His feet, the god of 
warez.  His hands became the god of h/p/a/v/c, and from his heart came the 
god of programming.
   Upon shattering his twin, the god of feds descended into cyber-hell.  From
there he created rules and regulations for whoever payed him money.  Most of
these rules were designed to keep the six minor gods from gaining too much 
power, and thereby keeping the wealthy computer companies safe.  The six 
brothers spend their time keeping their respective geeks and dweebs busy 
doing things to fight the chosen people of the god of feds.  This was the 
beginning of the cyber wars... but that's another story.

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News> next

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alt.fan.warez                         article 2188 of [2188,2192], (4 unseen)

From: brewed@free.org (m0rpheus)
Subject: ass-key!@@!#!@!1
Organization: Computer Abuse Force for Better Living
Lines: 44

She scolded the little piggies and gave them
a punishment she knew they would
not like.                                          ^..^
               Y0u'V3 B3En B4d P1GGi3Z!!  <--     _(oo)_
               Y0u'V3 L0Zt UR M1TT3nZ!!1         (.=  =.)
               Y0u $H4ll H4V3 N0 W4ReZ!1         /|----|\
                                                | |____| |
                                                |________|
                                                   V  V
                _____
   __  ____  _ |WaReZ|           THeZe R0ACHeZ aT My H0USe DeWd
  __  ____  .__|_____|__.         C0UR3iR TH31R WaReZ!! DeY G0
 - -- ----- |___________Oo---<-    R3Al F4ST S0 tH3Y G0T -D4Y
   --- -  ----  | | | |               W4ReZ! W4ReZ! W4ReZ!
 -  --- - ----  /./././.            ?  MY C4T iZ dE?F3DZ!
                               MY?C4T?3ATZ?D4?ROACH3Z &?DA?WaReZ!

                                                                 Rite Here
                                                            !!  / you Dumb
    __                                                    c[0o]   Nigga!
 __|^^|                                                     `U'\ 
  c[00]                 WaRezZz  AlE3Rt!@#!@@!#!@#             -|-
  /`U'                 Just Couried in phrum Japan!           _/ \_
 | \ warez    You can see their cartoon butts and titties!
(`V-)the     
 |_| warez?   ===[C0URYED BY :=: RAZeR 1911 & GENiZs!@]===
 |__)         ===[CD Ripped by :=: NiGZ WiF WaReZ 411!]===
              ===[Cracked by :=: NiGgA JeWz WiT WaReZz]===
              =====[AnsiPhaG Art by :=: AciD$!@#!@!]======

      
    ,-----.
   (/^\_/^\)=====
   |doc dre|    w0rd!            (__)    erikb sEz - jhO bEtAh' Ph3aR MOgEl!
   | o   o |  /                 c|Oo| _/ erikb SeZ - BuY My Teeee ShirTs!!!
   |  (oo) |   - [.ooM.]          ~U~    erikb sEZ - EyE sEx #hack g1rleez!@
  / \___c_/ \                     -|-    erikb sEz - i wISh i WaS iN HoE!@!1
 |T  snoop  B| <-- s3kr3t cDc     / |        wOrd! jhO betAh pheAr meE!
 |l  doggy  i|     cow skull
 |c | dog | g|  <-- Gmac
 |__|-----|__|      Daddy
  |notorious|       Duds
 _|____|____|
|______|_____| <-- Air Mitnick

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News> next

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alt.fan.warez                         article 2189 of [2189,2192], (3 unseen)

From: boogeyman@escape.com (The Boogeyman)
Subject: k0nphessions 0f a d00dleb0y
Organization: pHrUwT
Lines: 54

Hi. My name is um...Bob. And I admit. I used to be a d00dleboy. The colored
blocks just kind of lured me into #ansi. I just couldn't leave! It was awful!
I stayed for days and days on irc, just to see my 'friends'. Well they aren't
your friends!!! 

It's a conspiracy to brainwash you! The colored blocks hypnotized me! I even
wanted to make these awful things now! They want you to become one of their
d00dleb0y legion! Well dammit I made ansis! Night and day, I had my copy of
the draw breaking my fingers over all of the seperate blocks!

I was a maniac making the ansis. Until I heard about zines. They saved me.
I can't believe I was taken by that crap. Now I am warning you! Be aware
of the d00dlelegi0n!!!

These are the ways not te be taken by the d00dlelegi0n!

1:  READ ZINES!!! Lots and lots of zines! Never stop reading them! Read PHRuWT
    night and day! Write t-files! Live t-files!

2:  Never join #ansi! When you join they own you!

3:  Don't make ansis! Never!

To look back on the whole deadly ordeal it shocks me!  How the hell could I
have obsessed and wasted so much of my time on a limited system of ugly
colored blocks?!  OH IF I COULD ONLY TURN BACK TIME.

Beware of them! They will own you till you die if you actually join a group!

Scary gr00pz to steer away fr0m:

ACiD: the leeders of the d00dlelegi0n
iCE : they'll fry your brain!
teklordz: they'll fry yuuu

I'm not sure of the others but beware! There are new groups everyday! aCK!

[ways to convert d00dleb0yz]

(i have found these ways to be the most useful in killing the d00dle process)

send then dcc's that say they are the new acid pax and make them really
t-files sayin how lame they are! like this one!! send them HoE'zZz, send
them them PHRuWT'zZz

beat them severly over the head with blunt objektz. this will eliminate them
all. beware: only use this in severe occasions cause you could go to jail an
stuff

the 'oj'. knife em to death...then plead innocent because they were a d00dler

er the worst fate of all...remove their copy of the draw!!! ahhhhh

REMEMBER! D00DLERZ ARE NOT PEOPLE!@!@

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News> next

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alt.fan.warez                         article 2190 of [2190,2192], (2 unseen)

From: whoops@xnet.com (whoOps)
Subject: Having absolutely nothing to do with Happy Humphrey Hippoes
Organization: Frannie's got his hand on her butt.
Lines: 113
            
             Zorquat and the Happy Humphrey Hippo Geex
             -----------------------------------------

    Hi, my name is Zorquat, and I am a modem geek. Oh, you don't know what a
modem geek is? If you're reading this post on a newsgroup instead of printed
out on thin white things called "paper." That is a definite indication of
geexness) then you obviously have come in contact with at least one. Most
likely a million, seeing as how you're reading this at *all*. But let me
explain. A modem geek is a member of the human race (actually, i exaggerate a
bit - only 63% humanity is necessary to qualify) who talks, posts and acts
like an an ignorant idiot, moron, imbecile or dumbkopf online. Now, I hear
you.. "Hey, that sounds like everyone I know!" But you see, there are
different *levels* of geex. Surprising, eh? "I didn't know geex HAD another
level!@"

    *** Part One: Generics

    One such level is the beginner level. I know, because all geeks must go
through it. There are just two prerequisites to being a modemgeek: you have
to be 12 years old, you have to be male, and you have to have good math
skills. All modemgeeks start out as 12 year old males fumbling their way
around chat boards and occasionally calling places such as "The Pir8's Cove"
and when asked if you have any files, replying "D00M!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
    After the beginner level, you are around 13 or 14. You start to get acne
(if you haven't already - chances are, you have), your voice gets deeper and
your palms get sticky with sweat of course. You noticed several upper-level
modemgeeks t4Lk1nG strangely and emulate them as best you can. You have
probably already bought d00m, d00m ][, d00m threeturns (copyright Shplat
Pilee '94), d00m's final revenge and son of d00m. You irc a lot with handles
such as "hot/sweaty4u" and page "girls" (and you are soon to learn the proper
terminology for them - chYx) with handles like "hotter/sweatier4u" 
    After the beginner advanced level, you move on to intermediate. You now
spend most of your waking hours online and often hear your mother saying
things to your father such as "Cecil, I think that boy spends too much time
clicking keys and looking at that strange box in the family room." And often,
you will hear your father reply with such strange and bewildering comments as
"Now Hilda, that's natcherull for a boy his age. Why don't you drive for a
while?" Several years will pass before you understand these cryptic comments.
    Now on to intermediate advanced. You are around 17 years old, know what
all the letters in h/p/v/a/c/u/u/m stand for and have probably come up with
your own cute and quirky little k0de-w3rdz for your h/p buddies. If someone
asks you your address and anything you say includes the word "dot" in it -
you're GONE. You probably call conferences a lot, which is no sin in itself;
but you probably also sit on the conferences and talk about being online,
which is a strong indication that you have reached the intermediate advanced
level and are about to break your way through the barriers to being advanced.
    Advanced. You're here. You're over 18, you live away from home, away from
parents, away from having to clean up the dirty underwear off your floor..
and you STILL sit around online all day. You're gone, man. Say O Nah Rah.
    So does that explain it all? I left out a lot of details. If you can fill
them in, then you are a modem geek. Yes, i know you can fill them in. If you
can actually reach me to reply to me and tell me what I've missed, you are
most likely intermediate-advanced or above.

    *** Part Two: A Short Treatise on Chicks

    Now on to my favorite part.. not warez, but ME. I have a confession to
make. I have.. <sob>.. gonads. I am a thoroughly 100% "pubescent adolescent"
male, and I am rarin' to go. Rarin' to attack the first female I see. And,
seeing as how I spend most of my life staring at a computer screen, (d00d,
.28dpi, 1024x768x256 awesome res!@#!) <snapping rubber band at wrist> the
only females I see are those foolish, stupid or ugly enough to call online.
Yeah. <scratch self> All females online are ugly. <rearrange parts> 'Course,
that doesn't mean I stop hitting on them, but.. 
    As a male, I recognize that..wait, let me change that. As a bundle of
hormones, I recognize that the real purpose of modeming is to Scope Babes.
That's right..Babelicious babes. If they were presidents they'd be Babraham
Lincolns. If they were bad early 90's horror flicks they'd be Babe Fear. If
they were two brother-type-d0Ods in the bible, they'd be Cain and Babel. See
what I mean? Babesbabesbabesbabesbabes. So..I like babes. And they like me.
Well, sometimes they smile at me. Well sometimes I know that they're NOT
throwing up just thinking about me, and I get all warm and fuzzy inside just
thinking about it. I really should change these underwear. Sometimes I get to
imagine that they smile at me, and even though I know that they're really
sitting there snidely at their computers trying to snidely think up snide new
ways to snidely rip on geex like me, it still really gets me hot to think
about babes smiling. But I digress.
    One random person once randomly mentioned to me in a completely random
situation that she.. make that HE OR SHE, to protect her anonymity... HIS OR
HER anonymity.. Anyway, this person-type thing said that it was really funny
how those people online who are ruled by their hormones (read: guys) say
things like "MoDeM CHyX aRe uGLy." Which I don't really get - I *know* I'm a
stud. I have got the pants with the big super sized pockets on the knees to
prove it. And not only that, but they are the handiest pockets in the world
to keep my HP 48GX/90Mhz 4 megs RAM, 72 SIMM and one hot mother-fuckin-board
calculator. I know when I smoothly stroll my way down the street in my black
clothes and requisite Pearl Jam t-shirt on, my dirty hair swept away from my
badly-in-need-of-a-washing face in a WaReZ WaLDo hat, that every chick on the
street looks my way...and then runs away quickly and probably throws up on
the next street corner. But that's a minor detail - d00d, they LOOKED. Of
course, this 'smoothly strolling down the street' only happens if my computer
is severely broken, and if it were broken by anything less than a
sledgehammer I'd spend most of my waking hours pretending to know how to fix
it, and telling everyone else I meet just how i'm doing it. So this random
person's point was that how is it that modem geex think they, out of ALL
people, could have the right to say things such as "M0D3M CH1CK5 A43 UG7Y."
And the reason is this - we're modem geeks. Someone once said "The two most
common elements in the universe are..Hydrogen.. and Stupidity." And it's
completely true. We're too stupid to..uhm.. duh. Well too stupid to like,
understand shit and some junk. (You know, on a completely unrelated side
note, who IS the black guy on the cover of the Jimi Hendrix album ANYway??
Back to our regularly scheduled dorfing...) If we let on that we knew what
geeks we were, we'd never live it down - we'd lose all our respect, man! Not
like we have any now, but that's besides the point. If we let these CHiX know
how much we rely on them for our own self image, pitiful though it may be,
then we'd never live it down. So that's why I've avoided ever writing this
down. Pretty smart of me, don't you think, not to write anything down, eh?
That's what you get for being a modem geek.

Behind every great        *     KC Smith        *  He's mostly dead, Jim...
man... is his BUTT.       *  whoops@xnet.com    *     Get Miracle Max!
                          * http://www.xnet.com *    
Hebrew... the MANLY beer. *      /~whoops       * Hangover: Wrath of Grapes
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News> next

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alt.fan.warez                         article 2191 of [2191,2192], (1 unseen)

From: that_guy@warez.net (Joe: The Telecom Man!)
Subject: look at me!  look at me!
Organization: I'm in _every_ group.
Lines: 

You have no idea who you're dealing with.  I'm Jake.  I'm the Telecom Man.
I deserve all your attention, for I have something to say.  I've been
hacking since I was seven.  I've entered more computer systems than stars in
the sky.  I know more unix systems then most people know words in the english
language.  I _am_ the national security.  I've got a great online
personality.  Girls want to meet me after talking to me for mere moments.
I've been romantically involved with over 100 gorgeous women from irc.  They
were not fat.  I'm a scholar and a gentleman.  I've got a lot of money.  I
graduated 2nd in my class at MIT.  I'm an IRCop.  I manage my time
efficiently.  In addition to writing for twenty-eight online publications, i
enjoy my privileges of root access on over sixty-nine systems.  I type so
fast - I don't even _need_ to multi-task.  My warez are true 0-day.  When I'm
feeling my daily creative burst, I draw award-winning ansi and vga on lunch
breaks.  I write the only good lit files in existence.  I don't phear mogel.
It takes me 4.8 seconds to identify an ansi-rip off.  When I log on IRC, I get
an average of ninety-two channel invites.  I _know_ what's in #k-rad.  I've
written five popular irc scripts.  I was the first one to declare gasp as
stupid.  The ascii I draw is used in over forty-eight sources.  I'm always
creative and funny.  I program professionally in basic/pascal/c/c++/assembly.
Sometimes when I'm bored, I write award-winning demos in LOGO.  I've been
known to collect c-64s.  My Hard Drive is forty gigs.  When I talk, Bill
Gates and Emmanuel both listen.  I _can_ blue box legally.  I set up ten
conferences a week.  My codes always work.  I sell red boxes for $200 a pop.
I've hacked so many vmb's, that entire systems have simply willing given me
control in fear.  I say everything I know very succinctly.  I've got 50,000
plus t-files.  My system backs itself up hourly.  It's AI.  It feeds me when
I'm sick.  Trent Reznor buys the MODS I write for millions.

Half of the known world phears me.

- Jake, The Telecom Man

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News> next

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alt.fan.warez                         article 2192 of [2192,2192], (0 unseen)

From: spamfx@free.org (Spiff)
Subject: error 13 : it sucks to be a coder.
Organization: WaReZ 'R uZ
Lines: 221

nine a.m.  mmmmm... the eternal question - back to sleep or off to work?
there's nothing better than working at home.  not really tired.  katie's
already up, maybe she can make me some breakfast before she leaves.

"hey, you actually woke up while it's still light out?", she says with a
smile.  she's so fucking beautiful.  katie is one of those girls you don't
always notice at first, but every once in a while, you look at them and just
can't comprehend all that's there.

"would you rather i go back to sleep?"

"well, if you stay up, i can make you some eggs... scrambled, right?"

"yeah..... please."  good.  i don't like to ask her to cook for me, but if
she didn't, i'd be eating cereal three meals a day for the rest of my life.
i like cap' n' crunch as much as the next guy, but after a while those little
plastic toys that may contain small parts that are unsuitable for childern
under three that come in those little plastic bags that are themselves not
toys start to collect.  sometimes i wonder if there's a little kid somewhere
who throws away the toy, and says to his mom, "look what i got! a bag."
probably.... people often

"here ya go big guy."

"thanks, ya know, sometimes i wonder if i'd actually bother to eat if it
wasn't for you."

she smiles.  she is beautiful.  no wonder i'm always trying to make her laugh.

"so you still working on that artificial intelligence project?"

"yeah.. it's a tough job, but hey, i'm a tough guy"

"i can't believe they pay you for this, i mean, you sleep all day, and then
work on that project for a few hours a night, but for all they know, you
could just as easily be watching t.v. or something."

"hey, good programmers are hard to come by."

"so, until then, they have you, right?" she smiles again. ahh, she's good.

"very funny, but they trust me, and, there's really nothing on after 4am"

"so, they owe the success of this project to a bad late night television lineup?"

"basically."

"so how's it going anyway?"

"it's coming pretty well, he's shown a lot of progress."

"he?"

"yeah... last night he asked me for a name."

"really? wow. so what did you give it?"

"i named him nigel"

"nigel? is that some kind of funky acronym or something? like in that movie
D.A.V.I.D?"

"nah... i just like the name nigel."

she looks at me and smiles. ha, i win. and i'm not even trying.

"well, i'd better leave, i have one of those schedule type things that exist
in the real world. want any more bacon?"

Error 16: Disk full. "no thanks, i'm filled, have a good day at work."

"okay, i'll see you when i get back. ya know, it wouldn't hurt for you to
leave the house every once in a while..."

"why, has it changed much out there?"

"that depends.. what color was the sky when you left it?"

she kisses me.  she leaves.  i love her.  i'd die for her.  i wonder if she
knows that? Error 64 : Cannot read or write variables of this type.

oh well.. time for another one of those tough working decisions - a-team or
knight rider? well, ya know i kinda miss murdock so i guess i'll... fuck,
channel testing, oh well, looks like you win knight.. FUCK.  okay, maybe
i can get an early start...

>hello nigel.
::HELLO MICHAEL.
>what's up, buddy?
-UNDEFINED FORWARD:"what's up"
ahh...
>%define : "what's up" !greeting/syn:"what is new"
>what's up nigel?
::I WANT TO LEARN.
>what?
::ERROR #53 : TOO MANY EXTERNAL DEFINITIONS.
i gotta teach him to be less jumpy.....
>explain.
::I WANT TO LEARN. YOU WILL TEACH ME, MICHAEL.
hmmm....
>okay, nigel.
>well, let's start with the basics....

ahh... finally.. all those fucking errors.... really gets to you.  harder than
it seems. good thing babies don't talk like that. yeah, i could imagine some
woman's face when she tells her kid to say 'mama' and he says 'error 82 :
undefined label'.

>nigel, what is spam?
::SPAM - 1)THE KEY TO THE UNIVERSE.
::       2)ANYTHING BUT FOOD.
>you're a smart guy nigel.
::THANK YOU MICHAEL. TEACH ME MORE.
>nigel, what time is it?
::IT IS 18:20:47.10 EST.

fuck.  that late.  hmm.  not that bad i guess for teaching him the staples of
life.  i mean, in just about eight hours i've transferred all my knowledge
of the transformers, taco bell, atari, spam, cheese, the a-team, g.i. joe,
the care bears, gumby, sonic youth, nirvana, poker, and other miscellaneous
treasures.  yeah.  i think i'll call today a sucess. christ i smell. better
get a shower.

::TEACH ME MORE, MICHAEL.
>i can't now nigel.
::WHY NOT?
>katie will be home soon.
::ERROR 52 : INVALID EXTERNAL DEFINITION.
::WHAT IS KATIE?
>i will tell you later nigel.

water feels good.  not many things out there that beats a hot shower.  yeah,
today worked out pretty well.  he is almost starting to seem human.  i mean,
if only he had a ERROR 24:File components may not be files or objects.
wait, why can't he? ERROR 17:Invalid compiler directive.

"hi honey, i'm
"KATE! say hello to nigel"
"wha
"just do it, c'mon"
"umm... okay, hello nigel"
"HELLO KATIE."
"WOW? now it talks too? how'd you do that?"
ERROR 1:Out of memory
ERROR 43:Illegal assignment
"umm... i'm not really sure, nigel helped alot.. but, basically it's just
a simple micrpohone/speaker setup."
"were you working with it all day?"
"yeah... from until you left, till now really.."
"doesn't that ever get to you? i mean.. staring at the screen all day?
i wouldn't be able to handle it.."
ERROR 61 : Invalid typecast
"nah.. it never bothered me really, but, i mean now, i can just talk to
him instead of typing.. and he has a really sexy voice"

katie laughs. i really love her laugh...ERROR 113:Error in statement. don't
really know why though...ERROR 107:Too many relocation items.

"I DO NOT UNDERSTAND DAVID."
"ahh buddy it was a joke..."
"still not quite human", she says, "but then again, you're not that funny."

hmm... could i teach him humor? could i teach him to laugh? now, if i could
do that.. i'd really have something here.. ERROR 108:Overflow in arithmetic
operation. she looks upset.... wonder what ERROR 117:Target address not found.


"rough day at the office?"
"yeah.. i guess you could say that..."
"feel like talking about it?"
"nah, i just think i'm gonna ......"
"okay."

"so, nigel, here's what.."
"michael?"
"yeah kate?"
"don't you think you should give it a rest for a while? i mean.. you don't
want to wear yourself out."
"nah, i'll be fine... "
"are you sure?"
"yeah.. don't worry about it.. i'll just spend like one more hour, then
it'll be quittin' time."
"okay"

she sighs.... well... i can't stop now, i mean.. this is the most progress
i've made yet.. if i can get him to actually have a sense of humor... if
i can get him to laugh..ERROR 140:Invalid floating-point operation.

"so the rabbi says, 'that was your wife?!'"

"hahaha, good one nigel, you really got the hang of this now."

"yeah.. it's not so hard to be human mike, it's easier than it seems at
first."

"yeah, i hear ya buddy, i've been"

ERROR 5:Syntax errorERROR 6:Error in real constantERROR 13:Too many open
filesERROR 36:BEGIN expectedERROR 37:END expected

"mike.... mike... are you alright?"

"umm, yeah, sure, i'm.." ERROR 49:Data segment too largeERROR 71:Internal
stack overflowERROR 78:Pointer expression expectedERROR 80:Label not
within current block......ERROR 67 : Statement.............



"make any progress with mike, nigel?"
"nah kate, he's just doesn't seem to respond, i spent all last night trying
to get him to communicate, he just keeps throwing out errors, i'm not sure
what to do.  i just wonder what's going on in his mind.."
"think you can try again today?"
"yeah, sure, right after the a-team, this is my favorite episode....."

ga0hsoolsi,pyptrabakrni,heymglppeiisrtl,0pesds,xrms,uitwzroi,n-.hsswsefsoywsefi
rn \o/   o   <o_  <o> "goodnight to the rock n' roll era  \o/   o   <o_  <o> ym
ed  |   <|>   |    |   cause they don't need you anymore"  |   <|>   |    |  oe
es /^\  /^\  /^\  /^\          spamfx@free.org            /^\  /^\  /^\  /^\ u1
tm  Y    M    C    A           primus@iia2.org             Y    M    C    A  r0
s0cegtaihaip,eepnlcfacssep,0e,i,dcu,atemrhu,ahetiitjle,iadfdadYtiiaatoatraatot%

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News> group misc.writing

%NEWS-I-GRPSET, current newsgroup now misc.writing
-NEWS-I-GRPINFO, articles [7,9], 3 unseen

News> read

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misc.writing                                    article 7 of [7,9] (2 unseen)

From: jamesy@hoe.org (James Hetfield)
Subject: How to be alienated from society in 5 easy steps!
Organization: PWCPZN - People Who Can't Pick 'Zine Names
Lines: 100

    The sun was stretching itself across a sky which was barren of clouds and
filled with emptiness.  As I cut through the open field, I stared at the
grass under me.  It was yellow, with little life left inside of it.  Sort of
like how I feel at times. 
    In the distance I saw the street I was going to follow to the party I was
supposed to go to, a party full of people I wouldn't consider my friends but
I'm supposed to.  A party full of faces I will soon forget.  A party of
'acquaintances'.  
    Over on my side I passed the large iron fence me and a friend once
attempted to climb over.  He had no problem with it; me, being a little pudgy
kid, got my shorts caught on the top of them and I had to be pushed over to
get down.  I landed fine, but my shorts were ripped all the way upwards.  My
friend laughed at me all the way home.  He still laughs at me; but he's not
my friend anymore.  
    The grass, being so dry, crunched under my feet as I walked.  The sound
of secatas screaming their mating call filled my ears.  That, and a radio
playing the oldies station.  The old man that lived at the end of the block
of this street was outside, and he was taking a dry rag and wiping his car
down with it.  He had no wax or water on the car; he was just wiping his car
with a dry rag.  He made small, loving strokes, and smiled at the beauty of
his car.  It was evident that the car had not been washed in a long time,
that he just knocked all the dust and leaves off the car with this rag from
time to time.  
    I stepped out onto the gravel of the street and gave the man an
acknowledging glance, the type a person would give an 'acquaintance' in a
high school hall.  He smiled, and said 'hello'.  
    A few houses down the block, a front door was open, and from inside I
could hear an old woman speaking very loudly.  "OH YES, ITS BEEN VERY
STRANGE.  ALL MY FRIENDS HAVE BEEN WATCHING IT TOO.  I HOPE OJ ISN'T GUILTY,
WHAT WILL PEOPLE THINK?".  She kept talking, but her voice faded away.  She
must have gone into another room of her house.
    Not watching the street, a new Acura Legend came flying by, almost
slamming me into the pavement.  I got out of the way just in time.  The
person honked once they were about 10 feet past me.  
    On the left side of the street, an old man had placed a wooden chair out
on his front lawn, and was sitting out on it.  He was just staring out; he
wouldn't look at me, although he probably knew I was staring at him.  He just
looked straight out.  I looked over to try to figure out what he was looking
at, but I couldn't.  He had a painful look on his face, also.  I felt sorry
for the man, even though I didn't know anything about him.  He just screamed
'pitiful'.  Then again, who am I to say what is pitiful or not.
    A middle-aged woman zoomed across the street in her blue mini-van.  She
looked as if she had 2.5 children, a husband, and a happy house with a green
lawn and a white picket fence.  I wondered if she has ever stopped to look
around her, to take a walk to a party, to watch the grass die, to watch old
men stare at the world.  To watch old men stare at the world and *not* say
"it is good". 
    Of course not.  The only people who ask these questions are thought of as
insane by their generation, they don't get looked at as intelligent until
they are dead for 20 years.  The curse of a questioning mind.
    I looked up, and breaking the horizon was a shape shadowed by the sun.  I
could tell that he was male, and had his shirt off (and in his right hand),
but I could not tell much else.  He walked forward in my direction with a
style of walk I had seen many times in my life, the kind of walk that tells
you "hey, guess what? you're nothing compared to me." I've seen it many
times.  In high school, almost all the athletes had this type of walk, with
their blanked faces staring directly in front of them, not acknowledging
their surroundings. They would look directly down the hall at the horizon
lines; just like an actor does when he plays a part on stage.  Only, these
people were not on stage.  They were playing the character that they thought
were themselves.  They never asked questions, they always thought they HAD
the answer.  
    He was getting closer now, and I could tell exactly who it was.  His
shirt was in his hand, helping him with his "Hey, I'm popular and you're not"
walk.  He wore no shirt, because he had not an inch of fat anywhere on his
body.  His skin was a perfect dark tan, with no birthmarks or acne anywhere.
I don't think he noticed me yet, because he hadn't looked over at me.  He
just stared forward.  His name was Tim Rowell.
    Tim Rowell was my best friend in junior high school.  We almost lived
together.  I'd always be over at his house, playing Nintendo, trying to
finish that adventure/role playing game.  One by One we'd conquer them all,
and always fight about which one was better at them.  He would try to act
tough and cool every once in a while, but deep down I always knew him as a
pretty OK guy.  He loved to crack jokes, as I did.  He was always a clown,
even worse than I, and that's pretty bad.  He was kicked out of my boy scout
troop in the 6th grade, and at that point I quit also.  We were the type of
friends you'd never expect to change. 
    But change we did.
    When high school rolled around, we both joined football.  We were both
second string players; I, a lineman, and him, a defensive back and wide
receiver.  He also joined wrestling.  I never got along with the jock crowd,
except for a few of them I had a different set of friends, while he totally
clung to them.  From that point on he never once again acknowledged me as a
human being.  The last memory I have of ever communicating with him was the
day I quit football Junior Year.  He gave me this look, a look that genuinely
in his mind said "You're a Pussy."
    As he got closer, the green sunglasses reflected the sunlight into my
eyes, blinding me.  I could barely see.  He was still built the way he was in
high school; about 100 pounds of bones.  He had a long scar on his stomach,
probably from an operation of one kind or another.  Otherwise, he had a
nearly perfect form.  His hair was slightly teased, to give it that "90210"
look.  And the sunglasses he wore were meant for a Melrose Place fan.  
    When he was about 5 feet away from me, he looked over at me.  He raised
his sunglasses in a manner of disbelief, as if he was surprised that I could
be the way I am.  He gave me this glare, a glare that said "Hey, you're still
the dork you always were".  He then lowered his sunglasses back onto his face
and walked off quickly, bumping me on my shoulder.
    
    Now I remember why I don't have any friends anymore.  Because they all
are like him.

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News> next

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misc.writing                                    article 8 of [8,9] (1 unseen)

From: shadowtao@hoe.org (Shadow Tao)
Subject: the doctor gets roasted!@
Organization: Ultra Super-Duper Conservative Party@!#
Lines: 17

   The day of 'Tracturpuhl' had arrived.  I awoke to chants of "pur-dee,
pur-dee", an obvious form of my tribal name.  There are numerous gruntings
from outside for awhile, and then two Furmur's run into my hut and grab me.
They pull me outside and strip me of my clothes.  They then bend me over a
log while a third shoves a piece of corn into my anus.  My screams of pain
make them laugh.  To my horror, a ewe is brought before me and the chief
makes a high caste-to-low caste greeting to one of my captors.  They shove
me onto the hapless ewe, and prick my back with their spears.  I commit an
act of cold love to the bleating ewe, much to their delight.  They pull me
off her and signal for me to bend over as a line of tribesmen forms behind
me.  I run screaming from the camp, the piece of corn wiggling in my rectum.

            shadow tao.  writer for hoe, member of bedlam
        --  --- ------------------------------------- ---  --
   ring the bells that still can ring, forget your perfect offering
     there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in
        --  --- ------------------------------------- ---  --
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News> next

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misc.writing                                    article 9 of [9,9] (0 unseen)

From: murmur@hoe.org (Murmur)
Subject: condiments, chapter 27
Organization: pEz Monthly
Lines: 32

                condiments, chapter 27: guacamole

     sanchez lived in a rural mexican farming community.  this farming
community was unusual in that only wild pumpkins were raised.  these wild
pumpkin farmers took daily siesta, not unlike fellow countrymen.  however,
sanchez was an insomniac.  eventually determining that he could not take his
siesta, sanchez decided he would spend his daily siesta time working in his
wild pumpkin patch.  when for the seventh straight year sanchez won the
annual award for pumpkin prolificacy, the other pumpkin farmers started to
wonder.  they had already begun noticing that sanchez always left the fields
last and always returned to the fields first at siesta time.  but it would
be another four years before someone observed that they'd never actually
seen sanchez come or go.  the next year someone boldly checked sanchez' bed
after siesta time and found it hadn't been slept in.  now people were really
curious.  no one had ever won the pumpkin prolificacy award twelve years in
a row until now.  then, suddenly, the following autumn, someone blurted out
that they didn't think sanchez was taking his siesta!  rumours ran rampant.
how could anyone skip their siesta?  two years later the village mayor
approached sanchez.  sanchez admitted it'd been at least fifteen years since
his last siesta.  the community was outraged.  suddenly people left and
right refused to take siestas, in protest.  sanchez was even pushed off his
land as hungry, coffee induced pumpkin farmers went berserk.  sadly, farmers
started falling asleep in the fields, exhausted because they had not been
taking their siestas.  one day, all of the farmers simultaneously fell
asleep in the fields except sanchez, home alone, pushed off his land.  a
massive hailstorm came and demolished the village, killing all the residents
except for sanchez.  sanchez, whose insomnia was suddenly and miraculously
cured, slept like a baby for weeks.  sanchez would go on to set an unheard
of record of forty-seven consecutive annual pumpkin prolificacy awards
before dying a happy, albeit somewhat lonely old man, from eating a
poisonous gourd.

moral:  sleep is for the weak.  pumpkins are for the strong.

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News> group alt.religion.rudabega

%NEWS-I-GRPSET, current newsgroup now alt.religion.rudabega
-NEWS-I-GRPINFO, articles [201,202], 2 unseen

News> read

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alt.religion.rudabega                     article 201 of [201,202] (1 unseen)

From: dfx@fc.net (Drunkfux)
Subject: Re: ANTI BEEF (Maharaj can kiss my meat eating ass) 
Organization: MEAT EATING, EARTH KILLING, PUNK R0CK M0THER FUKERZ 
Lines: 76

>     * Meat-eaters have higher blood pressure, are more 
>hypertensive and violent.  Public funds are used for research and 
>treatment.  Everyone is forced to pay the price of violence and 
>crime.  Meat-eaters hurt themselves, their families and others.
> 
> Meat-eaters hurt everyone.
> Meat-eaters hurt everyone.
> Meat-eaters hurt everyone.

  AND WE'RE DAMN PROUD OF IT T00, Y0U ST00PID FR00T L00P.

  After reading Ja-I-have-no-clue's lame ass, crap filled, VEGATUBULZ R 
  PE0PUL T00 message for the 10,000th time in the last month, I was 
  inspired to leave the house and make a dramatic change in my eating 
  habits. As I pulled up to the McDonald's drive-thru and gazed at the
  death infested menu which was so obviously responsible for breast cancer,
  arthritis, Erik Estrada, racism, and every tragedy in the last 9,000,000
  years, Jai's words really touched me and I had a change of heart. Instead
  of my usual "Can I have a #3 combo with a coke, please?", I shouted, 

  "Y0 B1TCH! I WANT A FUKN QUADRO-P0UNDER W1TH N0 FUKN VEGETABULZ 0R SH1T
   THAT GR0WZ 0N TREEZ!"

  "Ok sir, you wanted a Quarter pounder, just plain, is that correct?"

  "N0 B1TCH! I ZED I WANTED A FUKN QUADR0-P0UNDER! GET IT R1TE 0R DIE!"

  <quiet laughter heard through speaker>

  "A what pounder?!"
 
  "A FUKN QUADR0-P0UNDER!"

  "Uh.. I don't think we have that. Are you sure you don't mean a quarter
   pounder?"

  "N0 I D0N'T MEEN A FUKN MEEZLY AZZ QUARTUR P0UNDER! HERE'Z WHAT I WANT -
   2 FUKN D0UBLE QUARTER P0UNDERZ PUT T0GETHER 2 MAKE 1 QUADR0 P0UNDER!"

  "Ooohhh..  you want *2* double quarter pounders then?"

  "N0 B1TCH! I WANT 1 FUKN QUADR0 P0UNDER! TAKE THE 2 D0UBLEZ, PUT THEM 
   T0GETHUR AND GIV ME 1 QUADR0! U G0T IT YET BRAINIAK?"

  <more laughter and employees looking out the back entrance window>

  "Oh! Ok..  I think we can do that. Would you like cheese on that?"

  "FUK N0 B1TCH! I WANT 4 H0T SLABZ 0F C0W DETH 0N A BUN WITH N0 FUKING 
   HIPPIE AZZ VEGETABULZ! I ALZ0 D0NT WANT ANY FUKING LAME VEGAN FRIEZ 
   0R ANY TYPE 0F RECYKULD PAKAGING. N0 KUP, N0 BAG, N0 WRAPPERZ..  PUT 
   THE SHIT 0N THE WIND0W K0UNTER THING AND I WILL TAKE IT. AND TELL JAI
   T0 G0 FUK A K0K0NUT T00!"

  "Who?!"
 
  "FUK IT & GIMME THAT WHICH IZ THE S0URCE 0F ALL EVIL... N0W!"

  "Thank you. Please drive to the 2nd window."

  For the record, I got my fucking Quadro pounder and it r0cked. I am 
  faxing McDonald's tomorrow and demanding that this awesome item be 
  permanently added to every McDonald's menu around the world. 

  I'm a meat eater.
  I'm hypertensive.
  I'm violent.

  And if you get in between me and a plate of animal death, I will fucking
  kill your pathetic ass and then go kill some trees in order to build a 
  coffin to bury you in. 

  DETH IZ IMMINENT. THE EARTH MUZT DIE. MEAT EATERZ ARE THE MAJ0RITY AND 
  WE'R FUKIN PISSED. GIVE US WHAT WE WANT 0R BE PREPARED T0 FACE THE WRATH.

  Drunkfux . cDc - Cult Of The Dead Cow . Senior Vice Prez
  ftp.eff.org : /pub/Publications/CuD/CDC 
  alt.fan.cult-dead-cow
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News> next

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alt.religion.rudabega                     article 202 of [202,202] (0 unseen)

From: whisper@gamepower.com (Fr. Timothy S. Whisper)
Subject: On Doing It: Translated from The Truth Book (Tales of the We Is)
Organization: Tales of the We Is Preservation Society - Translation Team
Lines: 136

                               ON DOING IT
                               -----------

        ...translated from The Truth Book (Tales of the We Is)...

 
   I bring you greetings from the perch.
   
   (Do not trust the speaker!)
   
   After reading this sentence, please skip this article and go on to the
next one.  In fact, please rm your newsreader.  Why are you reading this?
Why do you want to be in your head?  Intellectual stimulation alone breeds
impotence and self-ignorance.  Why, I learned THAT in kindergarten.  Didn't
you?  But more on that later.

   You should be doing something else right now.  Perhaps your ass would be
less sore if you stopped right now.  Have you eaten yet?  Maybe you should
masturbate.  To assiste you, I've created ultra-real fantasies to prod your
proclivities:


      xy tug:  She's blind, so she can't see how ugly you are!  You don't
               have to ask her if you can have sex with her since you
               don't know how to ask a girl that question.

     xx pull:  He doesn't have a penis anymore.  You've grown one.

   xyy twist:  Please.  Stop reading this.


   Hello to to the few of you who are left (and don't YOU feel foolish now?).
I am writing to you, when I should be writing to myself.  After all, it is
_me_ that I live with the most.  Even then, I often live alone.  But I am not
alone now.  For now, you are here with me (but you shouldn't be).  For now, I
am your jesus; you are my velcro.  Are you willing to do more than listen?
Can you stomach truth?  Can you take action?  You probably won't, but you
can.

   You are poised at my teats.  Listen to your god and his commandments:


            I.  Thought is corrupt.  Don't trust it.

           II.  Emotion is beguiling.  Don't trust it, either.

          III.  Trust your metaphorical gut.


   Since you obviously want to stay in your head, let's talk about this.
This means, you shut up and read (Last chance to exit!).  To make you feel
more comfortable, I'll use the word "we."  I wouldn't want you to think I
might be talking about YOU, no sir!

   
 I. Thought -
 
   Some of us are too smart for pants.  With all the sick and perverted
thoughts I _know_ you have, why on this PLANET would you trust your thought
process?  Well, I have some news: our minds were not built by IBM.  Sure,
some thought is a good thing.  But too much thought killed the canary.  See!
Thought made me come up with a stupid cliche to end that last sentence ("Oh,
I'll just slip it in.  They're pretty stupid anyway!").  See how dangerous it
can be?  I was afraid I might use a cliche, and there it is.  Damn.  THOUGHT
FEEDS FEAR.

   This, then, is the heart of this commandment, so live it, flock - Our
thoughts create how we feel.  Thus, if we don't like how we're feeling, we
are free to change what we are thinking!  It's as simple as shitting.  Out
with the old, in with the new (another cliche, "fuck you, thought").  To
those of you who THINK your thoughts are immutable (to the stupid, that means
"unmovable"), THINK for a second:

   You say, "Oh, I just can't fool myself."  NO!  You do all the time.

   You say, "Oh, that's just how I am"?  NO!  That's just how you THINK you
are.

   Oops, I've lapsed into youism.  I THOUGHT I wasn't going to do that.  The
point is this - dead canaries suck.

   
 II. Emotion -
 
    (Note: Some of you show no evidence of this aspect of consciousness.
Stay away from me until you get some help.)

    Emotion is tasty.  Joy, fear, anger...yum yum!  As one can tell, I love
emotion.  What may not be so evident is that I love spit too, but I don't
want it all over me.  [Translator's note: semen, of course, was a different
story.  See "on Swallowing" in The Truth Book (Tales of the We Is).]  I want
just enough to keep my mouth working.  Too much emotion keeps us from
fiddling with those piles of crazy thoughts we collect (See Commandment I if
you skipped to here).

    Emotion is addictive.  Let's talk about our warm, wet diapers.  Think
back.  Wasn't it great when we were babies?  All we had to do was sit in a
sack of slime for a little bit, and our moms would gently rub our asses with
delightful oils.  Some of us even got used to the rash.  WE DELIGHT IN THE
RASH!  While I like a good ass-rubbing as much as the next spiritual guy, I
do need my skin.  Take, then, this point: change your diapers - they stink
sometimes.


 III. The Gut -
 
   I bet you're thinking of entrails right now.  No!  Innards are great!  But
that's not what we're talking about.  We're talking about that part of you
that is always right.  Call it intuition, kids, but it's there.  It calls out
to you ("hey YOU!  Wake UP, shit-for-brains!")  It is no friend of instant
gratifications, so it's a bore at parties.  But life isn't always fun, eh?
Life is long term and hard.  What better way to live it than to trust what
you know is right?  It's the voice, that voice of which the prophets speak:
"No one shows a tree how to reach the light; No one tells the stars it is
night."  

   Hear, then: your gut tames fear and is your birthright.  So use it.

   So says I, the We Is and be all.

   Of course, most of you are stumps, with long rancid roots that go deep
into the dirt. And yes, I DO mean YOU.  You say I have misread you?  You're
not a mere spectator here?  Then go do it.

[End of translation]

---

Fr. Timothy S. Whisper, servant of the misunderstood, is a little teapot
(short and stout) who resides in an Eastern United States city.  He has
dedicated his life to the spreading of the word of the We Is, speaker in The
Truth Book (Tales of the We Is).  The translation of the selection "on Doing
It" has been edited for modern consumption.  For spiritual consultations,
email $5 to Fr. Whisper c/o mogel@phantom.com.

(Giving is spiritual)
______________________________________________________________________________


News> exit

% irc mogel server irc.k-rad.net 6667


	
** Connecting to port 6667 of server irc.k-rad.net
	
** Welcome to the Internet Relay Network mogel
	
** Your host is irc.k-rad.net, running version ircd2.8/dog3-super.pl9
	
** Your host is irc.k-rad.net, running version ircd2.8/dog3-super.pl9lad
	
** This server was created Fri July 12 1995 at 01:33:52 EDT
	
** @umodes available oiws, channel modes available biklmnopstv
	
** There are 4881 users and 3844 invisible on 104 servers
	
** There are 109 operators online
	
** 4 unknown connection(s)
	
** 2388 channels have been formed
	
** This server has 340 clients and 5 servers connected
	
** - 
	
** - irc.k-rad.net Message of the Day - 
	
** - 
	
** - Welcome to irc.k-rad.net!@#!@  WaReZ for everyone!@#
	
** - 
	
** - "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment 
	
** - of religion or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; 
	
** - or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or 
	
** - the right of the people peaceably to assemble and to
	
** - petition the Government for a redress of grievances."
	
** -
	
** - WE L0V B0TZ@#!@#@ PUT AS MANY B0TZ 0N HERE AS P0SSIBLE!@##!@
	
** -



	
** mogel (mogel@hoe.org) has joined channel #zines

-> *mogel* self, irc quote files are pretty damn stupid.  so why are you
           wasting your time with this?

	
mogel* 'cause i'm pretty damn stupid too.


<carrie> haha no sysadmin with even half a life is going to give a fuck about
         what happens on irc.


	
JSSalo* Hey, you worthless piece of shit.. Just place that fucking channel

         of yours into your anus. IF I am interested in it, I CAN enter it
         without YOUR help.. LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU ASSWIPE!

<edi> hi, i'm tom.  i'm from new jersey, i masturbate too much.  nice to meet
      you.


	
pale* i can never tell what is real in here anymore


<Morfeus> how about you have a futuristic world where like the irc mafia is
          the real mafia and the ansiphags rule the commercial industry and
          hackers are like hardkore biker gangs. that would r0x.

<spiff> ** w4r3z OFFERED. /MSG spiffy XDCC SEND #N for autosend pack #N
<spiff> #1  ten pack of tacos [0kb, 1 file]
<spiff> #2  6 pack of tacos [0kb, 1 file]
<spiff> #3  1 taco [0kb, 1 file]
<spiff> #4  a large coke [0kb, 1 file]

<Sedat> damn u mogel!!!!1 u stupid!! u r sleeping!!!!!


	
** raduga has changed the topic on channel #hack to The Four Horsemen of the

    Apocalypse: AOL - PRODIGY - CIS - MSN


	
SenorP* unban me or you are dead


<_Minder_> fuck you pal... keep it up and I will have you klined lamer !

<y> THAT'S WHY I SAY HEY MAN, NICE BOT


	
** carrie (carrie@cascade.net) has joined channel #ansi
	
carrie* does anybody actually talk about art on #ansi or are they mostly

         shooting the shit?
-> *carrie* neither.  they mostly just kiss each other's butts.


	
mattg* hey man.....u got any ftp sites w pir8 games like mk2
	
mattg* hey do ya no how ta make explosives....fireworks
	
mattg* SHOW ME YOUR A HACKER
	
mattg* I only want 1 game to this sux :(
	
mattg* hey maybe u could help me....u know where i could get MK2 complete
	
mattg* that's all i want man
	
mattg* after i get it...i'm quiting internet


<tmservo> this is fraggin' hilarious.. it's like a poorly orchestrated
          drunken streetfight on IRC.. 

<dhate> DONUT FUCK WITH MY EMMENSE SCRIPTING POWERS
<dhate> I AM THE TRUE MODEM WARRIOR

<sratte> my PENIS loves me when i read stuff from alt.sex.stories to it
         outloud
<sratte> elite and sweet, baby, wooh wooh touch my peeps!!
<sratte> Man, who isn't an over-obsessive "usenet" person?!  gosh.  I could
         read alt.mcdonalds all day.  and in fact, i do.
<sratte> it's been fun talking to all my modem pals, but i gotta go
         read a.s.s. and masturbate.  later!!


	
madrigal* it is the very end for you.
	
madrigal* unban me or suffer it worse.


<SN> When I first renewed my access on Swamp Rat's system it asked if I
     imagined myself to be elite...  I said I was VERY elite!@
<SN> I said "But mom, they worship a dead cow!  Its like in India, but
     better.
<SN> She said "oh that's ok..I didnt mean they were sickening, I just mean i
     get bored because they make alot of inside joke/abstract-type references
     to stuff no one else knows what they are talking about...but I really
     like the slaughter of animals and others better!"
<SN> then my mom booted up 'How to Kill Your Teacher' by Neon Knights
<SN> mom is pretty elite
<SN> "Now son, you know you have to put special thanks to me in your next
     text file, or its no desert for you....."


	
** y (y@millenium.texas.net) has joined channel #hack

<y> Losers.

	
** y has left channel #hack


<mogel> I WANNA D0 EVERYTHING.
<mogel> I WANNA FUCK EVERY KITCHEN APPLIANCE IN THE WORLD.
<mogel> I WANNA WANNA DO SOMETHING THAT MAKES M0NEY!
<thal> I WANNA USE EVERY EFFECT ON MY COMPUTER!##!#
<mogel> I WANNA SYTHESIZE FAKE MUSIK!
<mogel> I AM THE ONE THAT COURIERS YOUR WAREZ.
<thal> I WANNA LOOP THE SAME TWO CHORDS MORE THAN EVERY ELSE$@&$%&@$%
<mogel> I AM THE ONE THAT TRADEZ Y0U K0DEZ.
<mogel> I AM THE 0NE THAT ACTZ REAL TUFF.
<mogel> I AM Y0UR MIZTER WAREZFUCT.
<thal> I AM THE ONE WHO DELIVERZ IT 0DAYZ!!##
<thal> I WANNA FUCK YOUR SHAREWARE BODY AND TURN IT ELITE!$#@!$!
<mogel> B0W D0WN BEFORE THE ONE YOU PHEAR,
<mogel> YOUR G0ING TO GET N0 0-DAY!
<mogel> HEAD LIKE WARE,
<mogel> BLACK LIKE PH0NE BILL,
<mogel> I'D RATHER GO OUTSIDE,
<mogel> THEN GIVE YOU A K0DE.
<thal> I WANNA SET UP AN 800 FOR YOU LIKE AN ANIMAL!$!$!
<mogel> I WANNA COURIER YOU FROM THE INSIDE.
<thal> I BRING YOU CLOSER TO 57600$@@$@$
<mogel> YOU CAN HAVE YOUR D00DLEB0yZ.
<mogel> YOU KaN HAVE Y0UR H4CKERZ AND PHREAKZ,
<mogel> Y0U KAN HAVE Y0U K-RAD P0RN.
<mogel> I WANNA UPL0AD Y0U LIKE AN ANIMAL!@#!@1
<mogel> I WANNA K0URIER Y0U FROM THE INSIDE!@#
<mogel> Y0U BRING ME KL0ZER T0 WAREZ!
<cyber> don't make fun of NiN it rulz.
<mogel> Brackish Boy is laughing out loud!
<mogel> NIN is full of WaReZ d00dz.
<cyber> NNNNNNoooooooooo!!!!!!!!
<thal> Trent is a warez dood, too.
<cyber> WAREZ SUCK!
<mogel> Trent was quoted as saying "0-day or no day!"
<thal> Whenever I log on to a MBBS board... I see him on.
<cyber> No bite your tongue!!!!
<mogel> I think Trent draws Ansi t0o.
<thal> There, are like.. 2357634 Trents.. "Trent" "Reznor" "NIN" "Trent
       Reznor" they're always on boards.
<cyber> how dare you say that in my presence!!!
<cyber> NOO

	
cyber is sobbing piteously!

<cyber> no!!!
<mogel> Isn't he in Acid or something?
<mogel> Trent^ACiD was on IRC.
<thal> He was a co-founder.
<cyber> i am going to worship to statue of trent in my living room and
        maybe everything will be better!!!

	
** Signoff cyber (cry!)


<mogel> if you had one orinigal quote to tell the world before you die,
            what would it be?
<turdball> mogel: "I am the filth, I am the cum, I am the vomit"
<Kamakize> mogel "can yew pass the cheeze-wiz?"
<mdestiny> i wood say "l0nG l1v3 #h4ck ()@#*$)(*@#$)(* ey3 nuB 1t s0..."
<Kamakize> naaa before the FBI busts me i will says "im not a phreak im a
           communication Hobbyist."  after all, yew must be polictaly correct
           in dis world
<l-bandit> I WED SAY...."DEBBIE GIBSON IS GOD"
<y> 85% of #hack women cant be wrong, choose y.
<Kamakize> IM NOT LAME! im ELITE Challanged. (c) 1995 Kamakize Communations
           Ltd.
<Valgamon> front desk, can I get a "care check" in aisle #hack please?
<Valgamon> drink fast or don't.
<dhate> m0gel: warez


	
Lobo* i couldnt get kicked off of #jesus last night.  maybe i should have

       said:  Jesus sucks.  instead of JESUS IS COMING better look busy

<Valgamon> H3Y GUYZ I WENT ON A DATE LEMME TELL YA HOW IT WENT
<Valgamon> WELL FIRST I MADE UP THIS STORY
<Valgamon> THEN I TYPED 'IRC'
<Valgamon> THEN I TYPED '/JOIN #HACK'
<Valgamon> THEN I BULLSHITTED FOR ABOUT 3 MINUTES


	
kokey* I'm in deep need of the squeaky 800#.
	
kokey* oh man, I need it real hard, pleaz.
	
kokey* I greeted you. n stuff.  and erm, liked you.
	
kokey* you know, for me to like a person takes a lot.
	
kokey* I donut do warez, ewe should gn0.
	
kokey* I gno, I'm relying purely on someone who would feel for me.
	
kokey* I am like begging.


<Kamakize> YES #HACK for only $19.95 - BUT Wait if you order now we will
           throw in #phreak and #2600 at no xtra charge - but wait if yew
           order now we will give you a pair of blueblockers for PHREE!!


	
jamesy* hey, check out this t-file i just did.  i was bored.  very bored.

         like, really really bored.

	
** DCC SEND (bang.blam.zam.wack.boom.txt 30117) request received from jamesy
	
** DCC GET connection with jamesy[204.193.142.252,2220] established
	
** DCC GET: bang.blam.zam.wack.boom.txt from jamesy completed 7.898 kb/sec


<tR_> good name..
<tR_> mo"gel
<tR_> (pronounced murrgel...)
<tR_> MOOGHOUL.
<tR_> you got fuckin bit by the cow and now you're this undead sob.
<tR_> m0egUll
<tR_> FREAK out.


	
** Signoff mogel (phear!@#)


% ls

Mail           News                bin                 kiddieporn94.gif
gweeds-ass.gif         eff.txt            bang.blam.zam.wack.boom.txt

% cat bang.blam.zam.wack.boom.txt

[-----]


                          "e'zine adventures"

                                        By, James Hetfield
                           

1.


   "To the people that think there is life beyond BBSing...

                        You're wrong."
 
                                           -Acid Warlock

2.


   The party was as exciting as watching mold grow.  The same people, the
same inside jokes, the same mannerisms, the same 'acquaintances'.  The same
people bitching about the same other people.  Nothing new, to say the least.
   I must have turned down the wrong street, because I found myself walking
down a busier street with a lot of cars flying by.  I laughed at a hotel I
passed, "The Suburban Hotel"; it must be for teenagers to go screw their
respective others at.  At least they didn't charge rates by the hour.
   After walking a little longer, I found myself in a little mini-mall,
looking into a closed store.  It was a used software store.  I saw a copy of
"Ultima IV" inside, a game I had been searching for.  I'd have to remember
how to get back here tomorrow to buy it.
   I walked around the store, to see if I could find anywhere that looked
familiar, and I found myself in an old alleyway.  It was getting dark, and
the lamps on the roofs of the buildings were pouring an orange light on me.
All along the buildings in this alley were gas-meters, and garbage cans
filled to the brim with trash bags.
   I walked down the alley a little while, watching for anyone around me.  I
was beginning to get a little paranoid.  Then, over on my left, one of the
buildings had a large, grey door that was cracked open.  Scribbled onto the
door in some kind of acrylic paint were the words:

   "3sC4p3@!#@@#!@# 3nt3r 4t y0uR 0W/\/ r1s/<!#!@##@@#!@#!"

   I looked around to see if anyone was around.  No one.  "What do you have
to lose?" I thought to myself, and opened the door.  I couldn't really see
inside, it was too dark.  I slowly walked inside...


3.


   I found myself in a giant haze; everything was swirling and twisting
around me.  My entire concept of reality was being challenged.  A giant white
mist surrounded me, spinning and flowing around me, on me, even through me.
I felt weightless.  I think I wet my pants.
   The noise was very loud; coming from every direction was the sound of
static, a crinkling of newspaper, a loud downpour of rain.  My ears were
beginning to hurt.
   Suddenly, I felt something grab onto my side.  I was so scared I wet my
pants a second time (I had a big slurpee with lunch that day).  I heard a
click, and the entire universe around me changed.  Now numbers and symbols
were flying around me.  A piercing beep or two rang in my ears every second,
deafening me.  I screamed for mercy, hoping someone would save me from this
insanity.
   I heard another click.  All went black.  Is this death?  Is this the end
of me?
   "Sorry about that, forgot to turn on data compression." I heard a voice
say.  
   Opening my eyes, I looked around in the darkness.  I could vaguely make
out a body standing above me.  He reached out my hand and helped me up.
   "You fainted or something after you came in.  That happens to a lot of
people when they make the transition."
   The transition?  Maybe I am dead.  I'm never going into a door marked
'enter at your own risk' ever again.
   "You'd think people would know by now not to come in here without the
proper hardware... all the accidents already..."
   "Where the fuck am I?" I asked him not-so-politely.
   He stared.  "This is Bottled Violence.  I'm the only one online right now,
mainly 'cuz it's a one-line board."
   "Excuse me?" I interrupted.  Was this guy speaking english?  Bottled
violence?  I'm in a bottle?  Online?  Board?  I looked down.  I was on the
floor, not on any board, wooden or otherwise.  When I looked down, I also
noticed I had on some kind of electric devise that was attached to my pants.
It had wires that seemed to flow all around belt area.  There was also a
large name tag on my shirt.  It read "h3ll0#!@!@#!@# mY n4m3 1zz j4m3z
h3tf13l/>!@#@#!!@#".  Even my name is in another language now.
   "Do you know anywhere that I can get some help?" I asked the guy.
   "What kind of help?" He asked me.
   "Well... HELP help." I told him.
   "?" he screamed.  Suddenly a hologram picture of a large monster appeared.
It was obvious that it wasn't real, but it still was large and menacing
looking.  A large voice boomed through the room; "ANSi by Mr. Bones, UNiON."
   "What does that mean?" I whine at the man.  I was beginning to lose
patience, and my pants were beginning to chaff me because of my little
problems of earlier.
   "Look closely at the ANSi", he told me.  I saw some words there, post,
read, list, and so on, but nothing about where the nearest bathroom was,
nothing about getting washed up, and certainly nothing about how to get OUT
of this place.
   "But how do I get OUT of this place?" I was beginning to lose my precious
sanity by the second.
   "Oh, that's simple.  You say SLASH G.." And with that, the man suddenly
disappeared.  
   I sat down, confused, nervous, worried.  "SLASH G", I yelled, but nothing
happened.  "SLASH G SLASH B SLASH GEE BLASH GEEE MASH GEE".  Nothing.
   The man opened a door and came back in.  "Oops." he said.
   "It didn't work." I groaned.  
   "hmm. let's see you do it." The man said.
   "SLASH GEE" I screamed.  The man looked puzzled.
   "Well, looks like you're stuck here.  By the way, my name is Ninja-Man
Bob.  Nice to meet you." He said, and extended his hand, which I shook.
   "It looks like you've had an accident there, boy." He smirked.
   "You better go into the personal room and clean that up."
   "The what?" 
   "The personal room.  You know.  Over there."  
   I didn't move, and he pushed me towards a door.  I went inside, and
looking around, saw what looked EXACTLY like my bedroom at home!  The walls
had brick paneling on them, and there was a motionless computer in the corner
of the room.  Red Velvet curtains were on the window.
   I looked out the window, but to my dismay, there was nothing out there
except blackness.  Not even a street light or anything visible.  I tried to
turn on my computer, but nothing happened.
   After changing clothes and cleaning up a bit, I went back out of my room,
and Ninja-Man Bob was still there, apparently waiting for me.
   "By the way, kid, do you have any violent, bloody GIFS?" He asked me, with
a little drool coming off the corners of his lips.
   "Not to my knowledge..." I said to him, and he looked very disgruntled by
that answer.  "But if I see any of these Jiff things I'll let you know."  I
told him.  He seemed a little more content with that answer.
   "Hmm.  You know what I would do if I was you?  I'd go see mogel.  he knows
a lot about weird shit like this.  Man... can't SLASH G..." And with that, he
disappeared.


4.


   I decided my only choice was to explore and see what I could find.  Maybe
if I look long enough, I could find this mogile person.
   I searched the rooms of this violence-in-a-bottle, but nothing really
exciting was there.  One room was gigantic, with machinery and books and
weapons piled up to the ceiling.  I tried to take an uzi, but a booming voice
screamed "YOU DO NOT HAVE ACCESS TO DOWNLOAD THAT FILE" and the gun shocked
me as I touched it.  
   Another room I entered was a giant hallway, with wallpaper on the walls,
the floor, and the ceiling.  The wallpaper had scribblings all over it.
Things like "I hurt inside." and "I think, therefore I am co-dependant" were
some of the ramblings.  
   Finally, I came to a large iron door.  Opening it, I found a huge silvery
bridge in the air climbing into the horizon.  I put a foot down on it, and it
felt like I was walking on a cloud.
   People were zooming across bridges like this one at the speed of sound.
Rays of light were flying by me as I walked down the bridge.  There were
bridges above me and below me as well, traveling in all directions.
   Finally, after walking for about 30 minutes, I came to a large building
with greek pillars.  Climbing the steps, I entered the building, and, sitting
at a table, were about 10 people, all hitting buttons on their belt buckles.
They were all wincing in pain.


5.


   "STOP THAT!" one of them yelled.

   "Who just came in?" Another person said loudly.  They all stared at me.

   "Who are you?"
   "... 300 baud? that's pathetic."
   "the warez on the bus go round and round.."

   "Hi.  I'm..." I said as I looked down at my name tag again.  "James.
James Hetfield."

   "I'm Seastone." one of them said.
   "I'm Odysseus." Another one said.
   "So, anyone looking for that silver keycard?  I've got one. I'll.. upload
it to you!"
   "heh."
   "the warez on the bus go round and round.."
        
   Then, behind me, someone else came in.

   "Who just came in?" 
   "Whoops."
   "Is that a chyck?"
   "the warez on the bus go round and round.."
   "Who gave you the number, whoops?"
   "A chyck is in here?"
   "I have my tongue up your butt, whoops..."
   "Great." said whoops. "So who is in here?"
   "Edicius."
   "I thought you were Odysseus." I said.
   "I changed my mind." Edicius retorted.

   "Well, you all know why you're here." one voice boomed over the rest.
"We'll skip order #1: paper or plastic? and go directly to order number two.
Our world is being threatened, friends.  It used to be that zines were used
for the transportation of knowledge and insight, for innovation and
ingenuity.  But today, this age-old trading of t-files is being destroyed.
Pip the Angry Youth is threatening our way of life by distributing anti-zine
propaganda.  Worse yet, he runs a zine that only consists of horrible poetry.
And get this - the population actually seems to LIKE it.  My theory is that
Pip has gotten ahold of some kind of new technology, to somehow throw
sublimital messages into their zine.  Because, honesty, there is NO WAY
anyone in their right minds would LIKE Going Ape Shit Press, this text file
group.  So, something must be done.  I open up the topic to the floor for
discussion."

   "Let's kill him!"
   "Too messy."
   "Let's flash him!"
   "Let's steal his fruits and vegetables...!" Whoops cries out.

   Everyone stared at whoops.  Whoops blushed.

   Soon afterwards, they all started talking at once, and started pressing
those buttons on their belts again, and high shrieking noises went through my
mind as they did this.  I couldn't handle the noise any longer.  I ran out
the back door.


6.


   (Enter deep, meaningful, post-structual nonsense here)

   Some people say dogs act just like their families.

   My dog sits at the window all day, staring out.  Wishing he could
be outside.  When he gets to go outside, he is very happy.  He runs around
and plays and chases rabbits.  Then he has to come back inside, where he
runs around a little bit and sits by the window, to stare out for the
rest of the day. 
   He is trapped inside of a world that he does not belong in; he
belongs outside, hunting, eating, frolicking.  Yet he stays hopeful,
knowing that he'll sometime soon be outside again, to hear the birds, to
feel the wind.  


7.


   I roamed around over the bridges for what seemed to be a few hours, but
all the doors I found were locked, or required access codes and "new user
passwords" I didn't know of.  I felt like I was inside the atm world of hell.
Retracing my steps, I went back to the conferance, to see if anyone there
might be able to help me out.  
   Getting close to the building, I heard a loud, continuous tone booming
from inside the meeting hall.  When I got in, I saw a scene of carnage too
expensive to dramatize in a horror movie.  The bodies of the people had their
instestines splattered around the room.  The heads of the victims were all
severed from their bodies, and put in a circle on the table, all staring at
each other.  The loud tone was coming from one of the bodies, that was
hunched over a telephone of some sort.
   For some reason, I had a strong feeling that I should not be there at that
moment.
   I looked around, and in the middle of the cicle of heads I found a small
note.  it read:

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~

        Frosty the 'Ho man

        Frosty the 'Ho man
        Don't need no welfare check
        With his big cigar
        And a cadilliac car 
        And Fort Knox around his neck

        Frosty the 'Ho man
        Put a bitch on every block
        First he found them dates
        Then he set the rates
        4o bucks she'll suck 'yo cock

        There was a bit of trouble
        When those college boys came 'round
        They tried to give ol' Frosty shit
        so he had to lay him down-POW!

        Frosty the 'Ho man 
        Is the pimp's pimp so they say
        Making cold-hard cash
        Peddling hot street gash 
        It's like christmas every day!

-counterpoint (GASP)

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~
        
   At that moment, a man dressed all in black entered.  He had a long black
trenchcoat on over his black jeans and black T-shirt.  He flashed me a broad
smile.  Then, holding his trenchcoat, he flashed me in a different way.
   As he opened his trenchcoat, a giant creature sprang from inside of him at
me.  It was black, and looked a lot like the pictures of the devil you are
shown as a kid, only without the horns.  The demon-like form opened its mouth
wide and engulfed my entire body.  By this point, I was screaming like a
little girl.  I think I wet myself.
   All around me were spinning letters and numbers and symbols...and loud
beeping was ringing through my brain, neverending...


8.


   I couldn't tell if I had been knocked out or not.  The next thing I
remember is opening my eyes to see strange shapes flying all around me.  I
would walk around and slam into walls, not seeing them.  All I saw were
symbols racing about.  
   I felt around for that box on my belt, and when I found it, I rapped on it
a couple of times.  That didn't help much, it just hurt rather badly.  Then,
I flipped a few switches.  When I hit a third one, everything went black.
And when I flipped it back on, I could see everything normally again.  The
wonders of modern technology.
   I was still in the meeting hall, and everything looked as it had before.
The man in all black had disappeared.  I sat down to rest for a moment... I
may have fallen asleep, or I just closed my eyes for a moment, I couldn't
tell which.  
   I was roused by a loud screech for help echoing through the halls.  It was
a painful cry, one that sounded like a child putting all his energy into the
yell.  I got up and went outside to see what was going on.
   Two men were throwing around a kid, pushing him in between themselves.
they were having a joyful time doing it.  The kid was obviously very scared. 
Both the men were dressed in black trenchcoats.
   I wasn't sure what to do.  I knew that these guys probably had big
monsters under their coats as well, and would probably knock me out as the
other one had.  Yet, I had this strong urge to take my stand as the
protagonist of this story.  Oh, decisions, decisions.
   "Leave the child alone." I boldly commanded.
   The two men looked at me, and smiled an evil grin in my direction.
   "Hey boys, we've got a 1200 bpser on our hands." one of them said.  They
both laughed.  
   After he said this, from every nitch and corner came out guys dressed in
black.  I counted about 20 of them total.  I think I wet myself.
   They were all approaching me, all smiling, all walking up to me.  They
held onto their trenchcoats, waiting to have talk_daemons spring out at the
move of a hand.  
   Needless to say, I felt a bit nervous.


9.


   I did the only thing a respectable young adult would do in a situation
like this.  I ran for my life.
   They were all screaming and running behind me, but I think all their
hardware on their bodies slowed them down... until I saw a few of them press
a button on their belts.  They suddenly were moving ten times faster than me!
There was no chance I was going to outrun these guys.
   I turned around, took in a deep breath, and charged them.  I ran directly
into one of them, sending him flying to the ground (with me on top of him).
They surrounded me and picked me up by all fours. 
   By the way they were carrying me, I thought they were going to rip me limb
from limb.  They were spinning me around and throwing me across the alley we
were in, then running and picking me up, and throwing me again.  Lots of fun
for them, but it was giving me quite a backache.
   "All right, enough is enough.  Let's finish him off." one of the larger
ones said.  Most of them pulled out screwdrivers, and were generally looking
quite menacing to me.  I think they were ready to take me apart piece by
piece, to dissect me alive.  I wet myself.
   "Your bones got a little machine..." 
   Guitar riffs filled the air.  The trenchcoat guys, stunned, looked around
confused.  It gave me time to grab a screwdriver from one of them and look
like I'm defending myself with it.
   From behind one of the trenchcoat bearers, a man appeared, grabbed him,
and broke his neck.  "Fucking poseur haqr freaks." he grunted.
   I stabbed one of the trenchcoat men in the back, and he yipped out in
pain.  "Hey.. what'd you do THAT for?" he whined, and ran off.  Maybe these
guys weren't as ruthless as I thought.
   By this time, the strange man dressed in sliced jeans and a T-shirt with a
fat bald guy with a crown on top of his head had taken out a large cleaver
and was slicing up the coated men one by one.  They surrounded him, but he
beat them off by kicking them and pushing them away.  
   In a few minutes the ground was layered with black trenchcoats, blood, and
plenty of bodies.
   The strange man yawned.
   "Uhm... thanx..." I said to him.  
   "You better take one of those trenchcoats... it will protect you from
those fucking haqr idiots... they won't be able to flash you anymore."
   "All right.. thanks.." I said, as I grabbed one of the less bloody ones
and put it on.  It felt disgustingly sweaty and warm.
   "Well, glad to help.  I'm outta here, forever now.."
   "WAIT... where are you going?"
   "I'm going to go get a life.  The scene here just plain sucks as of late."
   "Who are you?"
   "I'm Black Francis...But you can call me frannie.  Everyone else and their
mother does."
   "Who were those guys?"
   "Them... they're hackers.  They're part of the reason the scene is the
shit it is.  They run around, pretending they know what they're doing, when
all they do is run around saying 'I'm a better hacker than you!!!'.  Half of
them couldn't hack their way out of a paper bag.  Of course, I could. Don't
give me that look.  Want me to prove it?"
   "No.. that's ok.  I believe you.  So... Any hot chycks around here?"
   Frannie stared at me.
   "Ok, nevermind... do you know anything about a guy named GASP? or a guy
named Mohgull?"
   "GASP isn't a guy, it's a shitty zine that pretends its as good as the
rest, when all it really is is horrible poetry.  Mojile? You must mean mogel.
He's a good friend of mine, why?"
   "I was told I should talk to him."
   "Oh.  Well too bad.  He is in hiding because a lot of people want him
dead.  So he won't be around to talk to for quite a while."
   "Oh.  That sucks."
   "Yeah, people want me dead too, but fuck them... I'll fight the punks
until my last dying day.  Stupid fucks.  Ok, well, I guess I can trust you...
I'll show you where Mogel is... but then that's my LAST fucking appearance in
this shitty story, got it?  I'm OUTTA here after that."
   "Yeah, of course.." 
   "Before all that, though, we need to get you a new modem.  1200 baud is
not going to do.  Follow me." 
   Frannie led me to a large store that said "MODEMZ FOR SALE!@#!@#!@#" on
the head of the building.  We walked in, Frannie grabbed a large 28.8 and
beat the storekeeper to a bloody pulp with it.  Then he handed it to me.
   "Time to ride first class." He said and smiled.
   I attached the thing onto my belt, discarding the 1200 baud modem I had
previously had on.  I set the gague to v.FAST.  I walked around a  little, to
try it out.  It felt good, I was almost as light as air in this thing.  I
nodded to Frannie and we left.
   "Jamesy, you don't know how good it will be to get back into the real
world.  I've been rotting away in here way too fucking long.  The first thing
I'm going to do when I get out is get laid.  5 orgasms in one night.  That's
my plan.  Then, after that, I'm going to find the members of my band and
we're going to produce a demo tape.  Two demo tapes.  And we're good, too.
We might go pro.  It's gonna fucking kick ass."
   "Well, here we are.  Mogel's sweet abode."  The door was cracked open, so
we went inside.


10.


   "Oh Fuck.  Don't tell me I'm going to have to stay here for another
fucking section of this story."  Frannie whined.  He had picked up a note off
of the living room table, read it, whined, and handed it to me:
        
    ___________________________________________________________________
   |                                                                   |
   |     We have m0g3l pr1s0n3r@#!!@#!@#!@#!@#@#!!@#                   |
   |     were making him sign a paper that says h03 sux@#!!@#!@#!@#    |
   |     phear pip!@@#!!@#!@#@#!!@#!@#                                 |
   |___________________________________________________________________|

   "God fucking damnit.  God damn fucking damnit.  Shit fucking damnit.  I
don't want to be here anymore.  Can you handle this without me?  I REALLY
want go get laid..."
   "Sorry... I'm gonna need some help..." I asked him as nicely as I could.
   "Fine.  Shit.  Fucking mogel.  always getting himself fucked up.  Doesn't
he understand I have fucking problems too?  Jesus Christ."
   "... Where can we find him now?  He could be anywhere.."
   "Naw.  The GASP people aren't creative for shit.  Like every other
adventure story, he's being held at the GASP headquarters.  They're expecting
us to go rescue him... <sigh>... which we will.  I fucking hate GASP."
   "Will we be able to stop them?"
   "I don't know.. they're pretty powerful... but, then again, they're also
pretty stupid... so we'll figure something out.  We'll also have the pEz
posse on our side."
   "The pEz posse?"
   "Yeah, all the pEz members... along with we can get all the hoe members...
then we'll have an army.  They'll never be able to stop us then."
   "Oh. Ok. Sounds good to me."
   "But then again, rumor has it that pip has developed a new kind of weapon,
it's called the drooler... it's a giant robot that runs around kicking people
so hard their bodies are knocked inside out."
   "That must hurt."
   "You know it.  But hey, what do we have to lose, we're the heroes of this
story, we CAN'T lose, remember?"
   "Well, remember that this is the 90s, the age of nihilism  revitalized."
I mentioned.
   "Fuck you.  Like I wanted to hear that.  Stupid Fuck.  I bet you listen to
NiN." he retorted.  Frannie went into a large room with a bookcase and a
large red phone.  He picked up the red phone, pressed a button, said
something like "We need you, get your sorry asses over here." and hung up.
Then, he took a statue of Bill Gates, and threw it against the wall.  Somehow
this triggered a device that made the staircase move, revealing two poles
going downward.  I always was bad at sliding down poles when I was little,
so I landed on my ass.  When I got up, I saw we were in a large underground
cave.
   "The hoe cave.", Frannie told me, "And this... is the h0em0bile."  It was
a Powerwheels, and red.  I hopped in Frannie's lap, and he pedalled us toward
the GASP hideout...


11.


   "God fucking bitch cunt.  Flat tire."
   Black Francis was right.  Somehow, the big plastic red tire in the front
had gone flat.  It looked like we were going to have to walk the rest of the
way to the GASP headquarters. 
   "The GASP headquarters is in that airport terminal over there.. it'll only
be a few minutes until we get in.  They hide in the broom closet.  That's
where the GASP poetry comes from, writing in the dark.  They usually can't
read it after they've put it down on paper, so they just rewrite it with
whatever words seem to look like the lines scribbled down."
   We entered the terminal, and I already had a fishy feeling that we were in
for some trouble.  Perhaps it was the trout sloshing around in my pants.
   "Care for a flower?  Are you interested in learning about the brotherhood
of Hari Krishna?"
   Black Francis pushed the man aside, and kept on walking.
   "Care for a flower?  We would like to tell you about Jehovah and his.."
   Black Francis took the man by his hair and punched his lights out.
   "Care for a demo tape?  Its a fukkun new punk band, called 'I'm a female
choda"..."
   Black Francis whipped out his cleaver and sliced the punk into many
suggested serving sizes.
   After wiping off his cleaver, he pointed to a door.  "That's it.  That's
their hideout."
   I was amazed. "But... frannie... see that picture?  That's the woman's
washroom."
   "It's just a facade.  Have you seen any women go in there?"  He's right.
I hadn't.  A woman walked into the bathroom.  
   "She's a decoy.  Come on, before they notice us.." Frannie whispered to me
as we slowly snuck into the room.
   Went we got in, we heard shrieks and screams.  I never realized purses
could be so damn painful to be hit with.
   "All right, so I was wrong.  That's got to be it!" He pointed towards a
door that said "EMPLOYEES ONLY".  
   We tried to open it, but it was locked.  
   "Hmm.  I know.  We must need the skull keys!"
   "The.. what?" I asked.
   "The Skull keys! haven't you ever played ultima 5?"
   "OH.  the skull keys.  All right, where do we get them?"
   "Some guy in Serpent's Hold sells them to you."
   "Oh.  We're in New York, aren't we?"
   "I think so."
   We stood there, thinking out ourselves a plan of action, but nothing came
to mind.  Luckily, we heard the door unlock and it opened to slam into
Frannie's face, knocking him backwards.  
   Out walked a small man, wearing a nine inch nails shirt and a pair of
black leather pants.  Thousands of young kids mauled him, asking him for
autographs and his sex.  
   "That's him!" Black Francis yelled to me through the crowd that was
forming.  
   "Who? Trent Reznor?" I screamed back.
   "Fucking dick! it's Pip! Pip the angry youth! get him!" Frannie screamed
to me.  I charged Pip and knocked him to the floor.  He squealed for his
mother.  I had him pinned down as frannie came over with his cleaver and
brought it up to his throat.  The crowd was amazed and quite mad at us, but
wasn't trying to stop us.  
   "So, you stupid god damn pussy cock dick?  You gonna tell us what's going
on or are we going to have to just cut yer head off?".  Black Francis was
sounding more like a pirate every time he spoke.  He was obviously having fun
with this situation.
   "Ok! Ok! I'll tell you anything you want to know! Just don't hurt me!!!!"
pip whined out. 
   "What have you done with mogel?" Frannie demanded.  I noticed how cute
Black Francis was when he was mad.
   "I don't know! I don't know! they won't tell me!"
   "What do you MEAN, they won't tell you?  You're the GASP prez!"
   "Yes, but this isn't my doing! GASP is being controlled by a higher
group!"
   "What? What Group?" I demanded, trying to act as forceful as frannie.
   "I don't know, even that I don't know... all I know is that it has
something to do with grape nuts..."
   Grape Nuts? We were certainly lost now.  How could Grape Nuts have
anything to do with anything?
   "Grape Nuts?" Frannie said.  "Ahh! I know!"
   Frannie always knows.  That's why he's a main character in this story.
   "Grape Nuts is the headquarters for all of M0rpheus' evil doings!"
   "Morphiousos? who is that?" I asked politely.
   "Morpheus is an evil hax0r!  We must stop him!" Frannie screamed.
   "How?" I asked.
   "Oh.  I don't know." Frannie said.
   Suddenly, out of nowhere, the ceiling crashed in.  Giant robots came
flying down, shouting "AND WE'RE ALL LIKE BUGS" over and over.  They had
their eyes on us.


12.

   We didn't think we had anywhere to turn.  It looked very bleak for us.
The robots were closing in, and we had nowhere to turn.

   "Well, how are you gonna get us out of THIS ONE?" I asked Frannie.
   "I can't.  I quit." Frannie said angstfully, and disappeared from
existence.
   Pip laughed and ran away to go write poetry in California.
   Morpheus is now a congressman, fighting for family values.
   And me, well, the robots closed in on me and are still here today,
following me everywhere I go, making sure I don't have my own thoughts and
making sure they annoy me with every step I make.  If I do anything they
don't like, they kick me.  And it hurts.  Just for writing this damn file,
I have bruises all over my lower body.
   Mogel was never found.  Some say he died.  Others say he started up a new
group with Black Francis that never became that popular.  I don't know,
because the robots don't let me find things like that out.
   So life goes on, and as I sit here finishing up this tale of our favorite
scene's armageddon, just remember my story anytime you want to write a bad
essay about how much the scene sucks, and remember that we already know that
already, so you can shut the fuck up.  Thank you, and god bless you.

-eof

[-----]

%

        Message from demonseed@monster.truck.net at 17:19 ...
        talk: connection requested by demonseed@monster.truck.net.
        talk: respond with:  talk demonseed@monster.truck.net

% talk demonseed@monster.truck.net

______________________________________________________________________________

[Connection Established]

Why Hello there, Mogel.

> my god.  it's you!  demonseed!  you're real!  i thought you were just a
  figment of swamp ratte' imagination!

No, Mogel.  You're wrong.  DEAD WRONG.

> nO!  demonseed!@  i've been good!  i'm MOGEL!  people PHEAR me!  you
  _can't_ be coming to kill me!

Fortunatly for you Mogel, I've simply come here to deliver a message to you.
I'm not here to kill you...yet.  I've been watching you, Mogel.  I've been
laughing at how hard you try to talk to cDc people.  The almight t-file is

	
bigger* than cDc by a thousand times.  I mean look at this file here!  Even

this conversation is a rip off cDc #200.  Listen, you've tried a noble effort
with HoE, and it failed.  This next attempt will be your fate.  I'll be
keeping a close watch on you, Mogel.  If you screw up on this next 'zine, I
won't be so merciful.  You know what happened to Studmuffin of VaS right?

> I thought he disappeared and like ODed or something.

Oh, it looked oh-so-innocent.  "He was just high-off-his-ass and ran in front
of a passing monster truck in the middle of his lawn," they said.  They
didn't even realize it was me.  God, I love morons.

> You mean YOU killed VaS?

Yes, and if you fuck up this next time, you'll suffer a similar fate.  Those
cDc boys play dirty, so it's beat 'em or DEATH.  If you don't prove yourself
this next time, I'll bring your crushed head on a stick to the next HoHoCon.
"Did you see Mogel's head?!" all the warez geeks will say.  DO YOU WANT
THAT?

> N0@!#  never!@#  I'll show you@!#

Good.  Head my warning.  Gather up as many people that phear you as possible,
and go forward with eliteness.  You've got a lot of potential, Moggie.  Don't
let me down.  And Just to make sure that you follow through, I think I'll be
rm-ing HOE.ORG.  I hope you don't mind.  Take care, Mogel.  Remember - Every
move you make, I'll be there.

        _____
      6/     ^..^
       \_____(oo)
        WW  WW    \
                   oink you!  yr6t^YR-@YHRT&**Yhgh
ELQPP#@                  edsr                    fdg  ghdfgh
  $E)@_RF:RF                f  DFG       \df g               gbnGFHFG
\F  LEFL            dv.f             dfg
     ge;4SETEgf                  oSC       adfg

Connection closed by foreign host.

|=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=|
|    Be There for the next level.  TacoLand!  (215)750-0392.  Coming Soon.    |
|=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=|
 Copyright (c) 1995 HoE Publications. All rights Reserved.   #90 --> 07/25/95
 Byebye.