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We Like It,
I Like It
You like It too.
Start with MC EZP for the S o L Cru
See I'll always be guilty of loving you
So Anytime I'm around This is what we'll do...
It's the way...
That we play this scene...
It's the way...
We bring this scene to you...
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The Syndicate of London : Xmas Edition 2002
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The SolJo
http://www.retrogeekretard.org/soljo2002xmas/
(http://www.retrogeekretard.org/annuals/)
The Syndicate of London
http://www.whitedust.net/newsol/
Est 1992 - Reformed 1998
"Giving you the phear since that 'leet year"
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<> Copyright & Disclaimer: This Document is Copyright (c) The Syndicate of
London 2002. You are free to distribute this ezine wherever you like in
its original form. The Syndicate of London (SOL) cannot be held
responsible for the validity of articles printed within the Soljo. SOL
is a small non-profit organisation, any queries or problems regarding
articles; be they copyright or validity issues should be directed to SOL
admin at sol@retrogeekretard.org where appropriate mistakes/omissions/
copyrighted materials will be removed from back issue's and SOL will
cease to distribute them. This is all we can do; we do this for fun, we
ask why you do it? CAUTION: This production is presented in ASCII vision
best viewed with PICO or other such 80 Col txt editor) with Parental
Advisory Explicit Content.
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You have not betrayed your ideals,
Your ideals betrayed you. - DJ Shadow.
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The Lord's of the Ring's
::::::::::::::::::::::::
:: The Great One |PaRiS| paris@retrogeekretard.org
:: Stuck in a Circle Laura sipping_nightshade@hotmail.com
:: Kosha, but Full Flavered ChickenSoup ChickenSoup@retrogeekretard.org
:: The Big Irish Machine Cronus cronus@whitedust.net
:: Moo World Order Steinsky steinsky@cotch.net
:: Searching for a Muse Marie BibleBelted@thefragile.com
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--- STOP THE PRESS --- STOP THE PRESS --- STOP THE PRESS ---
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DoJ Bulletin:-
==============
Word of recent DoJ activities may have filtered
down to some of our loyal readers but what
follows is an explanation for the dearth
of releases.
In an effort to bolster politic support for
KoDD crusades the DoJ has gone legit and
can be found on all good news stands. This
months issue contains articles by all the
regular staff writers as well as guest
columns by John Dilinger and Lee Harvy O.
For subscription information contact the
staff through the usual channels.
Signing off for now,
Rue-The-Day
Chief-in-Editor
Glossary terms:-
================
DoJ - Discordant Opposition Journal
KoDD - Knights of Dynamic Discord
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--- STOP THE PRESS --- STOP THE PRESS --- STOP THE PRESS ---
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Contents
::::::::
Cover Art "She" Marie
The Parody "The SOL Xmas Panto" Steinsky
The Editorial "The Production Process" PaRiS
Lossless Audio Compression Steinsky
Social Interaction Theory PaRiS
Burnt Diary Marie
HiverCon 2002 - Come and Gone Cronus
The One That Got Away ChickenSoup
Nameless Epitome PaRiS
Turning of The Circle Laura
Accepting Change? PaRiS
Syndicate of London Frequently Asked Questions PaRiS
Fun With Wiccan's SOL
Resolution Marie
Clips & Crap SOL
Shit of the Issue SOL
Members SOL
Projects SOL
Greets SOL
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The MooIRCd Christmas Panto!
============================
(Taking place at the SolJo HQ at 7:30pm, tickets 5d.)
Cast (Of persons & livestock):
------------------------------
Barman (Narrator) .......................... Steinsky
King ....................................... fwaggle
Queen ...................................... Sabriena
Knight ..................................... PaRiS
Princess in the Tower ...................... Julie
Evil Magician .............................. Nurgle
The Cow .................................... thecow
The Mirror ................................. Marie
King's Advisor ............................. Iain
Ranger ..................................... cronus
Farmer ..................................... Kieren
Hackney Carriage Driver .................... Pillhead
Priest ..................................... Martin
Jester ..................................... laura
Peasant .................................... Organized Chaos
Gatekeeper 1 ............................... ChanServ
Gatekeeper 2 ............................... OperServ
Troll ...................................... KeyDet
---
[Scene: A quiet olde tavern. The barman is drying glasses while a single, old
peasant sits in a corner nursing a 2 hour old pint.]
<Barman> Once upon a time, long ago there was a virtual land full of strange
virtual people. Ruled by an Australian virtual Californian and his virtually
entirely English staff.
Our story begins in the distant past when an evil dark magician spread evil
darkness across the land, throwing packets at people's windows during the night
and turning a gatekeeper, chanserv, into a toad. King James fought a constant
battle with the evil magician until he was eventually exiled by the troops of
gallant young knight Sir Mark. But the evil magician had his revenge, snatching
the baby Princess Juliet, heir to the throne, and locking her in a tall tower
far away from the palace of King James. 21 years have past, but not one day has
gone by without Queen Sabriena asking the wise mirror...
---
[Scene: Queen Sabriena's bathroom / dressing room.]
<Queen> Oh Mirror, Mirror, do you know yet of my princess' whereabouts?
<Mirror> Why, yes I do ma'am.
<Queen> [Quite taken aback by this response.] You.. you do?
<Mirror> The princess is in the hands of the Evil (and repressed) Magician
NURGLE.
<Queen> The evil magician with the oversized head who oppressed my people by
boring them to death every day! Where?
<Mirror> In the land of Moordor! Oh! No, hang on there's a typo on my script,
that's supposed to be Moordon, little village on the way into the city, can't
miss it, big tower there.
<Barman> And so King James sent for his bravest knight to travel to Moordon and
rescue the princess from the evil, and intensely boring Nurgle. Sir Mark,
though getting on in years, and with dubious mental health records agreed to
take the challenge, with only his cow for company.
---
[Scene: Palace.]
<King> [Complete with Prince Philip's accent.] The old trouble and strife wants
her bloody daughter back again. I'd give her one, and we could just have
another baby, but oh no! You're going to have to go and get her, Mark, 'cos I
sure as hell can't be bothered.
<Mark> Certainly, sir. Do we have any clues as to her whereabouts?
<King> Yes, that idiot Nurgle bought her up in some tower in Moordon. No doubt
he's turned her into some commie pinko druggy. All a waste of time if you ask
me, but we have to keep the old ball and chain happy, eh.
<Barman> Sir Mark took out his map of the city, and saw that Moordon was in
zone 6, and Moordon south was on the Northern line. He had some difficulty
getting his Cow through the turn style, and it was a big mistake attempting
the journey at rush hour on a Friday afternoon. The passengers, already quite
squashed, were somewhat hostile towards Sir Mark and his Cow, but obviously
nobody said anything. The biggest set back to Sir Mark's quest came when his
beloved companion, the Cow, had problems negotiating the escalator at Moordon
south, and the two of them fell, crushing a Troll, who was Busking on the
platform below. After a thorough search, inside and out, the Ranger from MTP
(MooIRCd Transport Police) was satisfied that Sir Mark was not a terrorist,
and his Cow was not a bomb, and so the quest continued.
Sir Mark and his Cow were not easy to miss, and Nurgle, on the roof of the
concrete block of flats, had plenty of warning of their presence.
Sir Mark was surprised to discover that the lift was in full working order,
though shortly after the cow got in, it wasn't, and so they took the stairs.
---
[Scene: Block of flats in Moordon.]
<Mark> [Smashes Nurgle's door down and runs inside.] I'm going to kill you, you
evil fucking bastard!
<Juliet> Oh, a noble knight, here to save me!
<Mark> Sorry, who are you?
<Nurgle> [Silhouetted in door frame, with Blowfeld accent.] So, PaRiS, we meet
again.
[Mark runs at Nurgle, tries to kick him in Balls. Nurgle uses his evil magical
powers to grab Mark's leg, and twist it, so he falls on the floor.]
<Mark> Do you expect me to talk?
<Nurgle> No, that won't be necessary. I have more than enough to say, I do
not need you to interrupt with anything trivial that isn't about me. In fact
I've been waiting 21 years for you to turn up, so I can talk to you, all about
me some more. I don't think I quite finished telling you, last time we met,
about how I'd been to the supermarket that day, and bought some tea bags.
<Mark> Please, stop, I don't think I can take any more!
<Nurgle> Oh, but surely you want to hear about how last night I watched a game
show on MBC1 [Ed note: MooIRCd Broadcasting Corporation], and made myself
Beans on Toast?
<Blake> [With token British bad guy accent.] Stop. Right. There. Nurgle. This
role was made for me! You're not the most boring person to ever be credited
as a regular on this network. You aren't even a packet kiddy! Step aside,
I'm playing the evil magician now!
<Nurgle> Packet tools aren't everything, kid. An Evil magician has to be cold
and calculated, and you, quite frankly, have about as much calculating power
as a 486 running windows 3.1. [Nurgle aims his wooden staff (fnarr fnarr -
Ed.) at Blake, mutters some words, and Blake smashes though the railings of
the top floor, bent double, and falls to the ground below.] Nobody messes with
me. You're next, PaRiS, but first I think I should tell you about how I was
on a train the other day, writing things on my laptop, which runs Linux, when I...
<Barman> Nurgle dropped once again into one of his trademark rants. His eyes
glazed over and he became blissfully unaware of everything that was going on
around him.
<Juliet> Quick, I've heard this rant three times before, it lasts only 37
minutes, we don't have long to escape.
<Mark> But he's blocking the doorway, how are we supposed to get out!
<Cow> [Eating the carpet.] MOOOOOOOO!
<Nurgle> What, how dare you interrupt me! [Aims staff at the Cow, swings and
knocks him unconscious.]
<Mark> NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! You Bastard! You know cows can't get up again if you
knock them over!
<Nurgle> I know a lot of things, PaRiS. In fact my IQ is 962873197... [Sinks
back into rant.]
<Barman> Sir Mark, and Princess Juliet were now stuck in a small flat, trying
to get an injured cow to its feet. Things weren't looking good, until a
friendly farmer turned up on the scene. You might be asking yourself what a
farmer was doing on the top floor of a block of flats in a city, but on the
MooIRCd network all houses in the countryside have been bought as second homes
for businessmen and celebrities from the city, and all the farmers are so poor
they have to live in flats.
<Mark> Our saviour! Mr Farmer, we must get this cow on it's feet before this
evil magician's rant is over!
<Farmer> Ooh, Arrr. What yer wanner do, is you stand there, and the Lady
stands over thur, and then if I do this, and then this, she's up!
<Mark> Thank you sir, how may I possibly thank you?
<Farmer> Ahhh, there be no need for tha'
<Juliet> Oh, but you've saved me from the evil magician, I must offer you my
hand in marriage!
<Mark> *cough* *splutter* Who saved you?
<Juliet> Oh, right, yes.
<Barman> And so Sir Mark led the way back to Moordon south, with the Princess
behind on the Cow. The Princess decided it wasn't a good idea to take the
underground, so they hailed a cab.
---
[Scene: main road through Moordon.]
<Mark> Take us to the Palace!
<Hackney Carriage Driver [Hereafter referred to as 'Cabbie']> [With a brummy
accent.] Doin' a bit of sight seeing, eh? Ahh, I see, just takin' yer cow
for a walk... 'ere whadda ya think of those asylum seekers, eh? I recon'
they should blow up that bloody tunnel jobby, and take the bloody scroungers
with them... that Ian Duncan whatsisface has some good ideas, eh? That'll be
�560 please, mate.
[Mark pays the cabbie. Standing in front of the palace...]
<Juliet> Oh, you've saved me sir! Marry me!
[They kiss.]
<Mark> Fancy a shag?
<Barman> And so, that summer the Noble knight and the beautiful princess got
married...
---
[Scene: MooIRCd #cathedral.]
<Priest> Dearly beloved.. no hang on. Sorry, my English is not good so. Ve
are here today to erm.. you are now Husband and Vife, you may kiss ze bride,
although you don't look like ze type to be getting married iv you get my drift.
[Mark kisses Juliet and punches the Priest at the same time.]
<Priest> [With broken nose.] Ahhh, vhy does God allow such suffering? Vhat
does all these mean?
---
[Scene: Reception, in Ye Olde Tavern. A jester is jesting.]
<King> [To his Advisor.] D' Ya know.. You're.. You're my beshtesht mate on the
whole.. the whole network.
[Music starts, Jester starts dancing and taking her cloths off. King puts �50
in Jester's underwear.]
<Queen> James!
<King> Ah.. ah love you, ah do.
<Farmer> [To Jester.] Ohh, arr, yer a pretty lass, fancy a shag?
[Jester slaps Farmer.]
<Nurgle> [To Mirror.] You're my beshtesht mate!
<Mirror> Argh! Get off me!
[Two gatekeepers frogmarch Nurgle off the network.]
<Cabbie> Ere, you'll never guess who I 'ad in the back of me cab the other day!
Some weird couple with a Cow! A real live cow! Turns out they was Royals,
God save the King!
<Priest> But vhat do ve mean by zis concept of a God? How can ve put such trust
in the existence and power of such a being, vhich is yet to display to us any
actual proof of his existence?
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Editorial
:::::::::
Well here we are at another soljo release. w00p w00p and things of that nature.
I seriously think that limiting soljo to two releases per year (The annual
and the xmas edition) has really improved a) morale within SoL for soljo and
the zine its-self, I hope you all agree, in fact, if you like soljo just drop me
a mail and let me know huh? paris@retrogeekretard.org.
Moving swiftly on... There have been time over the last 6 months of non-stop
work for soljo (*snigger*) that I wasn't sure we would be able to manage a
release, but as it happened we managed quite a large one with txt from various
different people (members and otherwise) and it all fell together quite nicely.
I don't know, but would be interested to find out exactly how other zine's work,
ie. are they quite as randomly (dare I say it) accidentally put together as soljo
is? For example, consider the following time line of (what is often laughingly
referred to as) this soljo's "Production Process":
---
13:00, August 25th 2002:
<|PaRiS|> I suppose we should start thinking about the xmas soljo :/
23:00, September 14th 2002:
<|PaRiS|> I suppose we should start thinking about the xmas soljo :/
<ChickenSoup> yeah I suppose I can write something.
- ChickenSoup takes long drag on spiff of Bob Marley like proportions.
22:22, October 17th 2002:
<|PaRiS| No we really should start getting stuff together for Soljo.
|PaRiS| changes topic to on #luckstruck 'Give me soljo submissions you
bastards on die by my hands as you dreamed.'
- ChickenSoup smokes his spliff.
<Joe> Yeah I can get some stuff together...
<Cronus> Yeah spose's so.
14:00, November 21st 2002:
<|PaRiS| Still no articles guys where are they?
---
This kinda' reminds me quite abit of The Hitch Hikers Guide to The Galaxy,
and frankly I don't mind the comparison. Perhaps we too are, in our end product
; erroneous, or at least wildly inaccurate, but when all is said and done,
we are slightly cheaper than an off the shelf magazine and we do come with
large friendly cover art!
As you will note from the actual contents, articles did eventually arrive
(mostly via blank email...) after countless harassing emails, telephone
calls, snail mail letters, ICQ msg's and on one occasion; syn flood. So all is
well that end's well. Or so they say
(almost half way through an editorial and not a rant in sight, must be some
kind of record for a soljo?)
And talking of records "Dearth" *is* a word. It means lack of. Ask cronus, and
disgusted with his answer ask llama. They will set you straight. *huff*.
In retrospect it's a pitty that the server that (used to) host RGR and thus
soljo went down just as we released soljo 2002 annual, it made it hard to
judge the response from our readers, so shout twice as loud for this one if
you like it. Or should that be "holla if ya' hear me?" ;) - wwe is addictive,
if you don't know what i'm talking about, don't worry (and that's the bottom
line because the PaRiS said so.)
And no, I am not writing this on New Years Eve (are you insane?!) As it stands
It's a few days before Xmas and I am still waiting for certain articles and
THE FUCKING COVER ART! But I'm sure all will be well by release day, so, hope
you had a happy new year and are reading this very hungover.
Peace out.
PS: Life is short rave hard. (Jerichism No #1)
---
|PaRiS| (The Editor, self proclaimed "GREAT ONE")
paris@retrogeekretard.org
www.retrogeekretard.org
"You are not forgotten."
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; Article's Begin.
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Lossless Audio Compression
==========================
In the past articles have been published in the SolJo and DoJ about audio
compression formats such as Ogg Vorbis, and there are plenty of lossy audio
formats attempting to replace MP3 as the format of choice on the internet
and quite frankly they all suck. Most of them are better than MP3, yes,
but MP3 sucks more than all of them put together. This problem though
only seems to have been tackled by bootleg trading community. Originally
trading in cassette tapes traders were used to quality deteriorating every
time a show was copied, until a few generations along the line the show
becomes unlistenable. Then along comes DAT and CDrs. Now with Exact Audio
Copy, Nero and a 1x CD writer a 100% perfect copy of a CD can be made, so
why loose quality if you don't need to? Because downloading a 700MB CD takes
fecking ages. So you compress it. MP3? Vorbis? Now you've lost some quality.
Depending on the bitrate the loss might not be noticeable, so you burn it to
CD. Somewhere along the line someone else wants a copy of the show so you
encode it again. More quality lost! Especially with most MP3 encoders which
don't even attempt to be selective about what data they chuck out. What
you need is a lossless audio format that makes files small enough to
download.
Step one is the development of 'Shorten', which solves one of the problems.
Shorten creates CD quality audio files with about 50% compression. This is
better than wav sized files but a 39 minute Flaming Lips set is still 241.5MB
and takes almost 2 weeks to download from the FurthurNet P2P on a 56k.
Broadband users may have the patience to download individual tracks in
SHN format for the superior quality, but dialup users won't. On top of
this the process of encoding SHN files is relatively laborious compared
to encoding MP3s.
Step two: FLAC. FLAC is smaller than SHN but still bigger than 256kbps
MP3s. Ripping a 46 minute Foo Fighters set into a single track with cue
sheet and encoding to FLAC produced files of between 30 and 40% of the
size of the original, so there's still room for improvement there. FLAC
files still take quite a long time to download but apart from their smaller
size, FLAC has a number of features superior to SHN. FLAC supports a system
similar to ID3 tags in MP3s, so each file can be labelled. FLAC files contain
headers which means that in theory the can be streamed (although presumably
their size makes this feature inaccessible to anybody on less than 10mbps
internet connections). One of the big problems that come with large files
is that errors can occur when downloading, and you may not know that some
data may has been lost or corrupted during the download. When trading SHNs
the person "seeding" the set, i.e. encoding the SHN files creates an MD5
checksum, and the person who has downloaded the files does the same and
compares the two MD5 files to see if there have been any errors in the
download. When encoding FLAC files though a checksum is automatically
created and integrated in the FLAC files. When decompressing the downloaded
files the decoder automatically checks that the file has transferred
correctly.
SHN, though still popular amongst the trading community, doesn't seem to be
going very far, and isn't likely to ever be used for anything except trading
live music. FLAC however is moving fast. An active development community at
sourceforge are always improving the Codec and the programs and plugins that
encode, decode and play the audio. There are FLAC plugins for Winamp2,
Winamp3, MacAmp, and a number of other media players for Windows and *nix.
There is built in support for FLAC in a number of music editing tools and
media players. On top of this there is Hardware supporting FLAC - The
PhatNoise car audio system, the Rio DAB receiver, and the Del DAB receiver,
and FLAC streaming audio could be an important step in improving DAB radio,
which is currently lossy. FLAC also supports 24 bit audio and beyond.
There are other lossless formats being developed, some of them are better
compression than FLAC, but none considerably so. None of them can beat FLAC
for features. Few of them are Open Source, very few have hardware support,
integrated checksums or support for streaming. There is only one format,
other than SHN and FLAC, that has support from the trading community, and
this is 'Monkey's Audio' (.APE). APE however only works on Microsoft operating
systems, which has greatly restricted its use, and it seems it's slowly dying.
Etree live music trading resource: <wiki.etree.org>
FLAC development community: <flac.sourceforge.net>
Furthurnet trading community: <www.furthurnet.org>
Steinsky's trading list (plug): <www.mpfreescene.com/~steinsky/>
---
Steinsky
Steinsky@cotch.net
www.cotch.net
"How will you know unless you try?"
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Social Interaction Theory
=========================
Once upon a time upon a dusty barren wasteland somewhere stood a very hairy
man. He was alone. He was a hunter. As gazed with some disappointment at
the distant dust cloud which signified the recent and swift departure of
the wilder beast he had had his eye on, he sighed; "If only someone else
was standing in front of it as I came from behind, he could have speared
the fucker, and we could have shared it. Such is life."
And the concept of friend was born.
The First Stage: Cell
----------------
The first stage of human interaction is a simple one; a basic human want
("Companionship") and an inherent human need: The need for Help. Consider
how much you would actually want to interact with other human beings if
you didn't a) feel driven toward human companionship in one way or
another or b) did not require the help of any other individual.
Perhaps the human want for companionship is some evolutionary magic
which drives us toward our need for help? The truth behind this particular
area of the theory is difficult in the extreme to prove or disprove; but
it does contribute to the whole, and is indeed food for thought. Why DO
we crave human companionship, in purely unemotional terms (after all
what are emotions but chemical and hormonal reactions within the brain?)
what do we gain from it other than the possibility of "help" from the
individuals with which we choose to interact?
Therefore, we can theorize that the primary reason we interact in the
first instance is to gain the help of other's. One individual pairs
with another, and then they perhaps pair with another couple to create
small, very tight knit, social groups.
The Second Stage: Organ
-----------------
The Second Stage of human interaction is more complicated. Our small
social groups, or cell's provide each other's want for companionship
and we should assume also provide the need for help (with whatever);
if they did not, the relationship would not have formed in the first
place (we can say for the sake of argument).
So what possible gain could human's have from interacting further? And
even more debatable, why would they want to in the first place?
Another inherent human trait is brought to light here, the trait for
conflict. More often than not, the cause of two small social groups
"joining forces" and creating a larger social group is to a) attack
another smaller social group, or b) Defend themselves from a larger
social group or c) defending themselves from some greater external
threat (such as wildlife, harsh weather conditions, floods etc). Or
indeed all three could contribute to a situation (A flood could cause
the displacement of a larger social group into an area inhabited by
two smaller social groups who then team up to fight against the
"invaders" for example).
The conflict may not even, in fact, be real. The supposed "threat"
of such a conflict could be enough to draw two small social "cells"
together to form a larger one, lets call it an "organ" for the sake
of this text.
So the second stage of human social interaction is characterized by
a want for security, driven by either actual, or theoretical conflict
(in one way shape or form).
From this second stage human's gain security, which is the reason
that the interaction takes place in the first instance; it could
be said that the second stage of human interaction is very efficient,
in that evolutionary speaking it has obviously defended humans from
external threats helping them to the top of the food chain over a
million or so years. It is perhaps because of the way humans
interact that as a species they have been so successful (although
this only stands correct to a point, this point, within the theory).
The Third Stage: Unit
----------------
Once an Organ has successfully defended itself from one or more of
the imposed threats which defined the need for it's creation, and
the provided the security which was wanted; in real terms there is
little more it can do. The human drive for conflict (and arguably
another for competition) speculates that at this point, an Organ
will start to sub divide into cell's once again, perhaps not officially,
but divides will begin to form within the internal social structure of
the Organ.
To combat this, the Organ will inevitably use (once again) the
inherent human drive for conflict as it's defence turning the inner
aggression and insecurity into hostility against a third party (Just
look at the USA, falling apart economically [1999] one minute, taking
on the "War on Terror" [2002] as the worlds strongest nation the next).
The Organ (as a theoretical consciousness created from the input of
the cells within it) NEEDS Inner security, but resulting from this it
WANT's supremacy over other "organs".
The premise being; if they are fighting others (on one way shape or form)
they cannot be fighting themselves (in any other way shape or form).
Thus the third stage is were the beautifully Darwinian theory begins to
fall down. The initial needs and wants of the relationship from Individual
up are forgotten and replaced with artificial needs and wants designed to
better the group "as a whole", which is by very definition in the
circumstance, counter productive.
Regardless of the outcome of the artificially generated conflict, if
our subject "Organ" gains supremacy over all others and becomes the
representation of the whole, the "Unit", or if it simply crumbles
and or looses any conflict; the result is the same, the Unit becomes
two or more Organs. The social group splits.
The Forth Stage: Organs (Again)
---------------
The split social organs lack the forward drive of the previous
incarnation, they are now just random mish-mash of individuals
who may or may not compliment each other; having been not forced
together by any particular needs or wants, but by a, possibly violent,
group disillusionment with regards their former unit. These too,
split, this time into component cells.
The Fifth Stage: Cells (Again)
----------------
These newly formed cells are now the result of two splits of a social
unit, in layman's terms the individuals in the Organ paired off with
other like thinkers or other's with whom they shared some empathy
because of an underlining resentment of the Organ and consequently
the previous Unit to which they were all once aligned(and maybe,
superficially at least, personal affinity).
However this time they do have a want; a want for individualism. They
feel a need for freedom away from any norms and values (which they now
see as failed) that were perhaps imposed upon them by the previous Organs
and Units. It is this want which now drives them, and the social process,
this want is the reason the death of social groups is often so overkill.
They Want Individualism, they need freedom. There is only one option.
The Sixth Stage: Individual (Again)
----------------
The cell's split into their component individuals, who once again find
themselves alone and seeking companionship; propagating the Cycle of
Human Interaction.
Conclusion: The Cycle
-----------
Human social interaction works in a cycle, driven by needs and wants of
the individual, who goes through his life entering into many cells, organs
and units only to find himself either literally or "mentally" wanting to
be an individual again at one stage or another.
During the first few stages we talked a lot of evolution and how these
stages perhaps aided, or were even caused by evolutionary instincts,
this same theory cannot be clearly read into the latter stages of the
cycle. Painfully splitting back down to the individual cannot aid anyone,
surely.
This is, seemingly, the fact. It cannot. Surely the goal would be to
create an "Ultimate Unit" which functioned perfectly, fulfilling the
needs and wants of the individual while maintaining the "balance" of
the first "organ stage", where security is provided, needed, accepted
and utilized for growth? Then WHY are humans seemingly unable to reach
this plinth?
In various spiritual and religious dogma it is suggested that the entire
universe is created from a single point, or mass of energy (the difference
is unimportant to the theory). In essence the suggestion is that we are
all part of one giant cosmic "whole". This could, if taken literally
(and if we for the moment discard any talk of evolutionary evidence
for the first few stages) be a reason for human's seeking companionship;
the bring them selves closer to the "mystic" greater "whole". It too
could explain why we fail, and yet continually try again to reach the
hypothetical "Ultimate Unit", read: The Whole.
To become the "whole" would be to become the "Divine", to return (or
as close as is possible) to the whole from which we "originated".
Perhaps humans are incapable of this perfection yet tormented to
inwardly desire it more than anything else?
"There is no hell worse than an ambition unachieved."
And that is perhaps the ultimate tragedy of humanity, if you believe
in this holistic dogma of a supposed original "unit".
And if you don't, what are the alternatives?
Could it be that man is destined to create the ultimate unit though
"Evolutionary" trial and error, will the right balance eventually be
stuck, and a social utopia created? Only time will tell us that.
Or is it just one of the idiosyncrasies of creation that man will
never quite get it right, suggesting this cycle is just another
curious element of nature which will eventually end naturally one
way or the other?
So let us digress...
The next time you are in a bar, or a club and you and a single friend
move away from the group you met their, and begin to worry at your new
found lack of affinity with them; think back to the last time you were
alone, and how you met perhaps one person, who knew another etc, etc,
and you all became a larger group. Then think how you are splitting away.
Think why. Then smile, knowing you are just another single amoeba in the
great Human Social Interaction Unit, continuing the circle.
---
PaRiS
www.retrogeekretard.org
"You Are Not Forgotten."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Burnt diary
===========
He made her afraid to touch the world, solid things-
Outside her home..
In a lovers tryst-
While she sat on the shelf-
and saw it take place-
Sitting there she did taking punishment...She blamed myself-
(Or who else was watching.)
He made living an ugly place-
And by sheltering her in the guilt-
She thought he was saving her-
And now that she's been knocked from the loft-
She remains where she fell, bleeding and searching through the glass & feathers for a
piece that resembles her-
And before she felt afloat ..passing all pains-
Now the ground never felt so sound-
Yet she is strong..She said she was strong..
She could recover-
If they would quit calling-
Forgetting her in other conversation..as did before-
Remember!
"I cannot let you begin when I have mastered."
- Marie
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
HiverCon 2002 - Come and Gone
=============================
[Let me warn the reader before we go any further that this article contains
Underground dirty words like 'Industry' and 'Corporate' and while we're
handling the warnings, I should mention that the article is very biased
but in all the right ways.]
For two days in November, Dublin was overrun with the cream of network
security for the inaugural HiverCon corporate security conference.
Speakers were brought in from America, Canada, mainland Europe and as far
out as Israel. Delegates came in their droves from just as far afield. The
Burlington Hotel in the centre of Dublin was the venue for HiverCon 2002.
Opening the show was Richard Thieme (thiemeworks.com) who has a long track
record in the security industry. Always seen as somewhat of a visionary his
opening speech certainly didn't disappoint. Its been said about Richard
that he is the only person in the industry who is respected by both the
hackers and the feds. He discussed the changing battle field that is the
workplace of network administrators. I won't try and summarise his words
but they will be in article form soon and I recommend everyone read it
whens its made available.
Simple Nomad was next on stage discussing the public networks that are an
integral part of the modern day internet, or in his words Satan's network.
What can governments monitor ? What do governments monitor ? SN took the
rumours currently being circulated by the media regarding 'cyber terrorism'
and confirmed, from a technical standpoint, the truths and dismissed the
myths. There has been allot of talk about terrorists embedding coded
messages inside images on the web or on USENET using steganography which
SN all but debunked saying that alongside other people he has put considerable
time into trying to find images that contain hidden messages without much
luck. He even went so far as to admit to a rapidly growing collection of
pornographic images, collected purely for the sake of searching for hidden
messages. The conclusion of the talk was that a rucksack containing a
fertiliser bomb is still a better terrorist weapon than an email message.
David Hulton, also known as h1kari of Dachb0den Labs, gave the audience a
run down of all the technical attacks against the 802.11b wireless protocol.
Being the lead developer of the BSD Airtools, h1kari is clearly the only
person qualified to actually speak on the (lack of) security involved in
wireless networks. The math got a bit heavy towards the end of the talk
but he's documented it all on the HiverCon website for more indepth study
should anyone be interested. Finishing off the talk David show us all the
BSD Airtools suite in attack as he spied on himself then some of the hotel
guests.
Dan Kaminsky was very eager to get up on stage and it was obvious why. He
is very much a showman, pacing up and down the room as he talked on his
suite of software The Paketto Keiretsu. In Dan's own words he enjoys
breaking the rules to see what happens. He took us all on a rollercoster
that is the TCP/IP specs looking for oddities that could be used for
productive goals. Rather than sending corrupted packets in the form of an
attack the Paketto sends suitely corrupted packets to bend rather than
break the standard rules of network standards. A definite highlight of
the show was Dan releasing version 1.0 of The Paketto, course it hit
his site about a week later. URLs at the end.
FX of Phenoelit was the last speaker of the first day. He took us through
the finer arts of attacking embedded systems, taking advantage of routers,
switches, printers and the like. At the height of his talk, FX led the
audience on a walk-through of a real remote Cisco IOS exploit with details
of each step. People, myself included, tend to trust machines that aren't
computers in the traditional sense. A printer has never been seen as an
attack platform but with the introduction of strange unnecessary features
like a Java Engine means printers can do strange things like receive
remote commands via email. A worrying talk to say the least.
The drinks reception followed FX's talk in the Hotel. All the guests got
a chance to meet and talk to the speakers. For many I think this was a
highlight as it allowed everyone to break out into discussions of common
problems and interesting solutions. At one point I found myself sitting
with speakers and guests listening to stories of cold war spying being
told by Richard.
[presumably the next sentence was edited out of the draft by cronus
before it reached my desk, because it was not in the email
attachment - Ed.]
The next day of the conference was due to start with Kurt Seifried talking
on the topic of Secure Data Deletion. Kurt was a little late getting on
stage partly because the guests were late arriving due to the open bar
the night before and partly because I couldn't get Kurt and Jaya to stop
ballroom dancing in the lobby. Everybody is aware of how difficult it
is to fully erase data but Kurt got heavily into the guts of the problem
even going so far as to discuss serious flaws in data deletion products
that are currently on the market. The products he mentioned were the big
names and each sells their product as 'industry standard' despite the
lack of attention to detail. Kurt also made the interesting point, when
does data deletion become evidence tampering ?
Michal Chmielewski and Tomasz Ostwald of the LSD Group were next on stage.
They demonstrated how Win32 platforms were just as vulnerable to assembly
component attacks as the favoured Unix platforms. Going step-by-step they
dispelled some of the myths about Win32 assembly attacks and show how to
abuse Win32 in many pretty ways with ease. I just can't say enough good
things about LSD. In April 2001 Argus Systems Group announced the 5th Argus
Hacking Challenge - the contest for hackers in which 50,000 USD prize money
was offered to the first person (or group) that could successfully hack
into the web server protected by the company's flagship product - the
Pitbull Foundation System. LSD hacked into it. That was April 2001 and they
have still only received 5,000 USD. More details at the end.
Ofir Arkin graciously came all the way from Tel Aviv to present his paper
on Voice over IP security. Affectionately dubbed 'Why ET Can't Phone Home'
the paper discusses the leading products in the VoIP market and the
inherent weaknesses with both the protocols used and the hardware used.
VoIP will be the phreak's playground of the future. Ofir discussed free
phone calls, call hijacking, call tracking, telefony fraud and clearly
the most fun - call manipulation. Its a worrying trend to see that
companies are still considering security as an add-on for after the
product hits the shelves.
Jaya Baloo was a last minute addition to the conference line-up but she
gave a really stirring talk. Legal Interception of IP Traffic is a hot
issue at the moment, being debated in parliaments and IRC chatrooms,
there is no clear consensus on what should be done. But European
governments are forging ahead regardless. Standards have been put in
place and ISPs are slowly moving to comply with the new laws being
introduced. She highlighted the weaknesses with the planned technical
implementations, paying special attention to the role ISPs play in
this political minefield. Jaya's talk ran way off the allotted time
only because questions just kept coming from the audience. Both the
guests and the speakers seemed genuinely interested in this subject,
many questions bolstering Jaya's main focus - who's watching the
watchers ?
Rain Forest Puppy was the last speaker at HiverCon 2002, presenting a
paper on his main area of research - the web. RFP has years of experience
in probing and attacking websites, webservers and web farms. He spoke
about his latest research of fuzzing version and patch details from
web software. By ignoring the (perhaps altered) server banner RFP
demonstrated techniques of determining the exact build of a httpd
daemon. While RFP's talk was aimed at web server software the techniques
he expounded on could be used against any piece of software. The ability
for an attacker to look at a company website and determine from simply
browsing the site whether the server is IIS3 or II4, what service pack
the machine has loaded and whether or not its vulnerable to existing
exploits, is a very scary prospect. I certainly saved the best for
last as the audience wouldn't let RFP off the stage as his talk ran
on to discuss his most recent research, scanning the net and logging
webserver software. Much like Netcraft he holds records of the most
widely used software and the most obscure software, but his list also
contains details of vulnerable hosts. A valuable commodity that I
doubt he'll be sharing anytime soon.
All that was left to do was thank the speakers, wish the Americans in
the audience a Happy Thanksgiving and then clean up. HiverCon 2003
planning has already begun so watch this space for more information.
See you next year.
URLs of Note:
HiverCon Website <www.hivercon.com>
HiverCon 2002 - includes papers and bios <www.hivercon.com/hc02>
LSD Vs Argus <www.lsd-pl.net/argus.html>
Thiemeworkds (Richard Thieme) <www.thiemeworks.com>
Doxpara Research (Dan Kaminsky) <www.doxpara.com>
Dachb0den Labs (David Hulton) <www.dachb0den.com>
Phenolit (FX) <www.phenoelit.de>
Seifried.org (Kurt Seifried) <www.seifried.org>
LSD-Plant (LSD) <www.lsd-pl.net>
Sys-Security Group (Ofir Arkin) <www.sys-security.com>
rfp.labs (RFP) <www.wiretrip.net/rfp>
Nomad Mobile Research Center (SN) <www.nmrc.org>
---
Cronus
cronus@whitedust.net
"My True Addiction"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
#include Header
{ The Discordant Opposition Journal
Voice of the Masses
Has Been/Coming Soon.
www.retrogeekretard.org/doj }
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The One That Got Away
=====================
Everything hurts.
No, hurts, its the wrong word. Aches.
It's the pain you feel when you lose someone, a kind of mournful yearning for
something that you will never have again, lost forever.
The thing is, I'm mourning something I never had.
What might have been. Or what could have been. Or what should have been.
Can you miss something that never even happened?
A tale of ifs and buts and maybes. Perhaps that's why it hurts more than
what actually was. Regret, and the knowledge that I should have done something
about it but never had the courage or belief.
It's not as if it only happened once. The first time I was a mere child of
seventeen and she was eighteen. I had just joined the local college to study
A-Levels in English, Politics and, disastrously, French, in my quest to become
a writer of some sort. What use I thought French was going to be, I couldn't
tell you now, and I probably couldn't have told you then either.
We met on day one of college, on the trip to collect our college membership
passes and have terrible out of focus, lop-sided photographs taken. Why is
it that the very worst photos of you are those that last the longest? This
photo would go on the Ealing Tertiary College's permanent record. In my first
passport photo I look as though I haven't eat for weeks, and that picture
lasts ten years. Then worst of all was my student union membership card. I
took the picture in one of the newer photo booths where you get the chance
to retake your picture if you don't like it. After three retakes the screen
suddenly flashes that it is my last chance to get the slightly mean looking
mug shot that I always went for just right. As the light flashed I caught
something out of the corner of my eye and looked away. The end result was
not just one bad picture out of four, but four shots exactly the same, of
me with my eyes half shut and looking away from the camera. That photo
stayed in my wallet for three years, giving countless HMV staff members
a giggle as I asked for my ten percent student discount.
Her brother Paul had been in my class at school, but we had never been
particularly close. However, as we went on to college we took few of our
old friends with us and desperately hung on to what we knew. On the day
of the photo shoot the college provided a couple of coaches to take us
to their main building. Our part of the college was an offshoot, it did
the same courses as the main part but was closer to home. By some form
of administrative oversight they didn't send enough coaches for all of
their new recruits, so Paul suggested that a few of us bundle into his
sister's car. Natalie's car. Her car.
We became friends. We still are friends. It's all we have ever been.
Maybe all we ever will be. She joined the group of us that stayed
together on the way up. I was lucky my closest friends came to the
college with me. And I met a few old friends. People I had fallen out
with in the past. As the new recruits slowly dropped away, those that
remained were pulled closer together. Almost through necessity,
people like to be close to one another, we're sociable animals.
Contact is very important to us, to talk, to laugh, to touch. We
form bonds. I think their called friendships.
Some friendships have very genuine beginnings. Some very odd. Some
are formed because you have to. During the period that the college
membership shrank, old friendships were resurrected. I lost touch
with Mike and Kieron in middle school. We did everything together,
as kids do. Then they went up to high school a year before me and,
hey presto, they disappeared. Until my first English A-Level lesson
when they reappeared. We were re-united.
Some are strange. My closest friend, Robert, we met in an odd way.
I don't like to use the phrase best friend. It's too exclusive, it
leaves out important people. It was his first day at high school,
he'd missed the first couple of weeks because he was on holiday.
We got into an argument about a chair, childishly, he punched me
in the head, hard. I didn't move. He was impressed. A friendship
was born. The strongest I have ever known. At college he also
grew close to Natalie.
At the start of college she was seeing a guy called Tim. He and
I got on well but I wouldn't class him amongst my band of exclusives.
At the time I wasn't bothered, Natalie and I weren't so close at the
time. However, I was there when he ditched her. She asked me before
the sorry day if I knew anything. What could I say? Tim had told me
what was going to happen. He had told me about his wandering eye and
how he felt bored. I thought, what a cunt. The only description that
fits. I was playing basketball with Tim and a couple of others when
she walked out on to the court to find out their future. In front
of everyone he dumped her, flat and un-subtle. Cunt.
I have a terrible memory. It's not that I forget things, it's that
I remember all the things that I'd rather forget. All of the enjoyable
stuff just seems to wash away. If I think back really hard I could
probably come up with a good one.
I can recall the time when I made Robert and Kieron think I had suddenly
become a real romeo. We were in the pub when these two girls walked in
and went to the bar. I went over to one of them and said: "I'm not sure if
I've met you before, but I don't usually forget a face that beautiful". Or
words to that effect. She laughed, I bought her a drink and we spent the
night chatting, whilst my mates looked on amazed. What they didn't know
was that I'd met her a couple of times whilst I'd been out with Mike.
Or the time when I let my best mate go out with the girl of my dreams.
"If you were a king, up there on your throne, would you be wise enough
to let me go".
There's not much on this earth that reaches deep in to your soul and
plucks out how you feel like music. You may not even realise that you
feel and think that way until you hear a voice explaining it to you.
With some songs you need their entirety for the message to sink in.
With others it's just a single lyric or a verse that wrenches your
heart out. The connection can be made on many levels. Everybody Hurts
is an obvious message, reassuring the listener that they aren't the
only one to have felt pain. It's a whole song of painful comfort. "I
didn't mean to hurt you, I'm sorry that I made you cry", pure simplicity,
so many people have said that, but none with more feeling than John
Lennon. "If you were a king up there on your throne, would you be
wise enough to let me go", feels like a more personal message. I'm
not sure if many people relate to those lines in the way that I do.
Robert and Natalie had become close. It just sneaked up on everyone.
During the big group nights out and day trips to Alton Towers. Suddenly
it became obvious, either Robert or I were going to end up going out with
Natalie. I pulled my self out of the running. It was hard. There was a
spark between them. Not just a little flicker either. With a little
encouragement (from myself amongst others) the spark ignited. It's
probably the most selfless thing I've ever done, sacrificing my happiness
for that of two others. And only one person other than me knows anything
about it. Robert.
Now, I'm not saying that withdrawing form the race is the only reason Robert
won it. He probably would have anyway. In fact I'm sure he would. Perhaps it
wasn't a selfless act. Was it just fear? Rejection, defeat and humiliation
are not things people enjoy, particularly me. Was I being wise or cowardly
when I let her go?
I never made a conscious decision not to ask her out. I didn't wake up
one morning and think that I'd let Robert have her. It just happened.
Or rather never did. Some may say that it is a very Zen thing to do,
or not do in this case. By not taking any conscious decision or effort,
yet, in retrospect, still making a decision is, apparently, the essence of
Zen.
Or is this another excuse? So I think I have done a great thing, to suffer
in the name of another's happiness. Another tool to make it easier to look
at myself in the mirror each morning?
I'm not certain of anything. In fact the only certainty I have is doubt. As
Paul Weller once sang: "As my anger shouts, at my own self doubt, so sadness
creeps, into my dreams, when your scared of living, but afraid to die, I get
scared of giving, and I must find the faith to beat it". I think I know how
he felt.
Natalie and Robert stayed together for a long time. Exactly how long I don't
know, but it was long enough for me to finish college and move away to
university. It was long enough for me to lose touch with Natalie. I
had no idea they had finished I came back one holiday and Robert told
me they had finished, no reasons why, they just had.
Before I went to University there were people saying to me how lucky I
was to be going and that they wished they were. Their reasoning was:
"All the sex and all the drugs". They left out the rock and roll.
However, no one told me that it would be other people's sex and other
people's drugs. The two most prominent memories of sex and drugs that
I take from university only involve me as an outsider. I was there, but
it wasn't me having sex or taking the drugs.
Both happened in the house I rented along with three others whilst I
scraped through my journalism degree. For the drug experience, the
night began with me sitting in the front room watching a video. I
don't know what it was, but it was probably the Simpsons, I watched
a lot of Simpsons videos at university. Two of my housemates, Chris
and Kurt came back with a friend of theirs, whose name escapes me.
They told me they had some acid and that it would be really cool if
we all did some. I declined and they went up stairs. An hour or so
later they come back down stairs, informing me that they had all done
acid. For a while things were normal, we all just watched Homer
strangling Bart, then the acid kicked in. They became giggling,
freaked out kids. They laughed at everything. Then they started
hallucinating, seeing things climbing walls and changing shapes.
Kurt told me that I had an ear on my forehead, then decided that
I actually had no forehead at all.
Then things started to go wrong. My housemate's friend lost it,
spectacularly. He decided he didn't like what he was seeing anymore
and he wanted it to stop. But it's not something that just stops, you
have to ride it out. We told him to just sit and try and relax, and,
as crappy as this sounds, think happy thoughts. But he didn't. He kept
trying to go home and we had to physically make him sit in the front room.
This went on for two hours. I decided to go to bed.
The next morning I awoke and the front room was trashed. Everything
was everywhere. I had no idea what had gone on while I had been asleep,
but I knew it wasn't good. I met Chris in the university canteen and he
filled me in. Chris walked his mate home late night/early morning and
he was still flipping out. Then Chris came home. He then got a phone
call explaining that his friend had decided to wander around town
smashing shop windows. This happened at about nine in the morning,
with the streets full of people on their way to work. The police were
called and he was sectioned for two days in the local hospital. I
thought he was bad when he was in my house, but he just got worse
and worse. The other two were fine, as near to normal as they got.
But I am so glad I said no.
If I'm honest, I didn't really enjoy university. I had some laughs,
made a few friends but it wasn't anything I wouldn't or couldn't have
done at home. I'm not even sure if I learnt much from my course. I
must have learnt something, but I can't tell you what. Waste of time?
Surely not.
I did have more relationships at university than in any other period
of my life. So it couldn't have been a waste of time. Well, if I felt
these relationships were in anyway meaningful I might agree with that.
There weren't many of them. A huge three in three years, but that just
shows how few I'd had before. The longest of these lasted a mere month.
I felt I couldn't really throw myself in to any of them. A shadow hung
over me. I feel sorry for them now. They were willing to give, if not
everything then pretty close to it and there was only so much I could
give. That's why none of them lasted more than a month. I had to finish
them. It felt like the better thing to do. Each time I told myself it
would be different, that I really loved this girl, but it stayed the
same. It's not that I didn't feel anything for them. If I'd felt nothing
then I'd have just kept lying to them, telling them that I loved them
when it was someone else who had possession of the pump in my chest.
That's why the most prominent sex memories from university aren't about me.
Well of course there are but none of them are the standout moment. The house
that I rented was converted in so that the room that would be the dining room
in most houses was an extra bedroom. That was my room. It meant that whatever
happened downstairs in the house I knew about it. That was fine because it
meant that I was involved in anything interesting that was happening. One
night it wasn't so good.
The other three housemates, Chris, Kurt and Bjorn (the Norwegian, for some
reason my university attracted Scandinavians) had gone out for the night.
I decided not to, I had an essay to hand in the next day. I went to bed
quite early because I wanted to get up and finish my essay, a rare occasion
that work took precedent. I was woken by Kurt and Bjorn coming in and
turning on the t.v. I tried to get back to sleep. I was unsuccessful.
Then I heard Chris come in, with a girl. They were all in the front room.
I heard one of them go upstairs. I drifted in to dream land. Until I was
disturbed. Permanently. I was awoken by soft moaning. Sex. Someone was
doing the deed in the room next to me, and I could hear it loud and clear.
And it seamed to be taking a very long time. An impossibly long time.
I figured out why. They started talking. I heard a male voice, then a
female voice, then another male. Three of them. It had been taking so
long because they were going one after the other. Sloppy seconds. I
remember all the things that I'd rather forget.
By the time I finished university Natalie and Robert had split. I
never found out exactly why they split. I heard various rumours of
people cheating on one another but they where never confirmed.
Natalie was now out of my life. But she was still in my soul.
Robert was seeing someone else by then and I had a new group of 'friends'
to adjust to, and I had work to find. Finding work was not easy. All that
studying and then employers tell you sorry but we want you to have two years
experience as well. Disheartening is the word. I ended up doing temp work.
I'm still doing temp work. Data entry, telesales, mind-numbingingly dull shit.
One of my pet hates are those phone calls from people trying to sell you double
glazing or life insurance or some such rubbish that I don't want. Yet I've done
it, I've been one of those annoying people. I always sounded so guilty, always
said sorry straight away. I don't think I ever sold anything and I can't count
the number of times the phone went straight down as soon as I told them who I
was. Now I'm on the books of more employment agencies than Tiger Woods has golf
clubs, and they'll all let me know as soon as they have any suitable permanent
work. They haven't let me know for well over a year.
I'm not very good a meeting new people. At least not to begin with. I have to
get to know them and they have to get to know me. Apparently I can be very
coarse and a little dismissive with people. I guess it depends on my mood.
When I first met one of my friends I called her a whore, amongst other things.
Now we are close friends, but it took a long time and a lot of one to ones.
That's when I'm best, talking to a single person, listening to them. In a
big group, sure I'm funny and talkative but I don't show all of me. Just a
little, but the bit that people like, the real doesn't emerge at first.
So I settled back in to life in London, with new friends and a few old ones
still around. I moved away from home. Not because I could afford to, but
because I needed to. I guess I felt stifled and needed to break away. A
new start, a beginning, it was time for something different. At home I
felt stifled and restricted, I had to break free from something that
was stopping from getting anything done. A job, a girlfriend, a life.
I dipped into the money my grandparents left me and blew half of it on a
flat. Nothing flash but bright enough for me to feel that I was independent.
I suppose it was a kind of a spark, a spur towards finding the things
I need, the fear factor. If I couldn't find work I could never keep the
flat, or my car or my lifestyle. It worked, in a way, but the fates have
conspired and prevented a defining realisation of the goal. But like the
ad said it's a step in the right direction.
Well it was. I felt comfortable and more at one with myself. That phrase
sounds like nonsense. I didn't quite understand it. People would spout it
in adverts or self help groups but I didn't get it. I don't think anyone does
until it happens. I was happy with myself, with who I am. Sure it wasn't
perfect, I didn't have the job I wanted, I was still on my own but I was
busy and constantly surrounded by friends. More than mere contentment. It
wasn't a case of just getting by and pushing things aside, I was actually
happy with my lot. Then she came back.
It had been a year and a half since I had last seen her. And that was only
a fleeting chat in the street. Then at a party we met again. A mutual
friends Birthday, I don't even remember whose, I don't remember much of
the party (and not because I was off my nut), I just remember Natalie. I
remember her beaming smile as we spotted each other and the warmth that
flowed between us. Two old friends reunited, only with a little more to
it. We swapped mobile numbers and she was back.
Not immediately though. I didn't call her, I didn't want to go back, I
thought I had escaped. Not for the first time, I was wrong. She called
me. A few old college friends were meeting up for a drink and I was
invited. She was flashing her new mobile phone about in the pub when
I arrived. I waved hello to everyone and went to the bar. I kept an eye
on them all sat at the table. Natalie began to walk over. I turned to
the bar and ordered. A hand touched me gently on the back and lips
touched on my cheek. She whispered hello to me. "I see you've got a
new phone, is it a different number to the old one?", was my romantic
response. She couldn't have greeted me in a more encouraging way and
that was my reaction. It got worse. "The number you never called me on,
you mean?" At least it meant she wanted to talk to me.
After that we saw each other fairly regularly. The odd spot of lunch,
Christmas shopping, going out at the weekend, that sort of thing. Never
did I think she was interested in going out with me. I thought about
asking her, then I thought about it again and decided it was the wrong
time. It turned out that in my mind there was never a right time. She
met someone else. I had taken too long.
Hindsight is a marvellous thing. If anything I thought about it too
much. I wasn't willing to just go for it. I asked advice left right
and centre. I told my closest friends how I felt. How happy I was when
I was with her, how low I was without her. They all told me what I
wanted to hear. "Go for it" it was the general consensus. But I
still wouldn't.
When you ask for advice it comes down to whose advice you trust.
This is actually more difficult than it appears. Some people who
you think would be obvious choices aren't always the right people.
Take parents for example. My parents have both spun me yarns that
are full of holes. For instance my Dad used to tell me about my
Grandad supporting Hungary when they played England. Well, that's
fine but he used to site the time Hungary thumped England 6-3 at
Wembley. The problem is that was in the early 1950s. My Dad wasn't
born until 1954 and he didn't meet my Mum until the 1970s. So how
could he know? And why tell me that at all? Perhaps I have a
suspicious mind.
Well I asked all the people I trust. They gave me exactly the advice
I would give someone in the same situation. So as well as ignoring the
advice of my friends, I ignored my own advice.
Then, I was hit by a bombshell. In an after pub discussion with Kieron
he tells me: "I reckon she really digs you, but she didn't think you were
interested." I never even considered that. All the time when I was waiting
for the right moment, it was always the right moment. Instead of thinking
I should have been doing. It was laid in front of me, and it hurt like hell.
Happiness was blown out of the water. Still happy with life, but unhappy
with myself. I feel like a fool. If I can't figure out what I want in less
than a year, how the hell can I even choose a pair of shoes? What's going
on in my head? I've figured out my heart but I can't work out upstairs. If
it hurts me so much why do I still speak to her every week? Why do I go to
the pub or club or wherever she happens to be going with her friends and
boyfriend? I guess it's because it hurts more when she's not there. That's
not the most difficult thing though. When she asks me for advice about him,
and tells me how he's upset her I want to say: "Fuck him, he's an arsehole.
You should be with me". But I don't and I won't. But I should.
Which brings us up to now. With me sat alone in my flat, a bottle of whisky,
an ashtray full of fag ends and a Simpsons video. Using my laptop as some
kind of psychotherapist. I probably should have gone to one years ago but
I don't want them to tell me about how much I hate my parents and blame
them for all my shortcomings. I don't believe any of that. Besides they're
not going to tell me anything I don't already know or at least suspect.
A distinct fear of rejection, blah, blah, blah... I envy Homer, at least
he's got Marge...
The phone rings. It's Natalie, she's in tears. She split up with her
boyfriend and she needs to talk. I tell her we'll meet at the pub. It's
a weeknight and the place is empty, it seems like just the two of us are
there. Music plays and we talk for hours. We leave and she thanks me,
saying she feels much better. Outside we hug for a moment and neither of
us wants to let go. I look in to her eyes and she looks back at me. We
kiss, slow and lingering. She tells me that she loves me. There is a
loud smash. My whisky glass has hit the ground. I must have lost my
grip whilst I slept. What a wicked thing to do, to make dream of you.
I've had lots of odd dreams. The one about the bridge and two cups of
tea is a particular favourite. There's a big pedestrian bridge that goes
over a large motorway, I have a cup of tea in each hand and I'm trying
to get to the other side. There are lots of other people crossing the
bridge but I can't make it. Every step is a struggle, each one gets more
and more difficult and the tea is going everywhere as I desperately try
not to spill anything and it seems the most important thing in the world
to keep every drop in the cups. I fail and have to go back to the beginning
and try to get across again but the same thing happens again. Does that mean
I think I'm a failure whilst it's so easy for everyone else or do I
subconsciously hate bridges and love tea?
Or is it just about love? With me sitting on my thrown spilling everything
I touch.
---
Chickensoup
Chickensoup@retrogeekretard.org
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nameless Epitome.
==================
CHAPTER 1.
The void. Vast, cold and unforgiving, swirl's of purple galaxy's with white
hot glare from red hot sun's a million mile's away adding a sinister natural
illumination to the much talked about blackness of space. And all of this
wonder, all of the extravagance in complete and utter silence. Not a drop of
a pin, or a whisper of air.
Without sound the gigantic vessel drifted past, it's arched hull long, narrow
and ornate with the sign of the cross painstakingly measured every 10 feet
along its broadside's. The twisted face of Jesus Christ, 10 feet high,
seeming by expression and circumstance to scream into the bleakness of the
ether as his carved and shaped body hangs lifeless yet horrific from an angled
crucifix on the very bow of the great space craft.
And in the centre of the vessel, much like the mast of a sail ship of old,
rose a spire of epic proportions, rising high above the vessel cumulating
into a sharp featured tip; the bridge of the monstrous starship.
Moses Ernest gazed out at the wonder of space, this was so far as he cared
to mention his first real space voyage, he had been up to the higher
atmosphere before on a number of occasions, sight seeing; praising
god's fine celestial creation's, but he had never visited another
world. And that's what he was going to do now, he had secured a fine work
placement on the outer solar system on Europa 8. Toilet Cleaner, 3rd Class.
He was both proud and humble. With a gesture of his hand to the father, the
Son and the Holy Ghost he thanked The Lord for this fine opportunity.
The Captain of the vessel continued his speech to those that had expressed a
will, in alignment with God's "Great Plan" to view the bridge area during the
voyage. "And this is where, with the grace of God, we steer this vessel to
God's given destination, if you care to look to the left of yourselves, you
will see a barren a deserted planet named XCD345 by our Lord's great
missionary's..."
Another of the relocating workers, Moses noticed from his name badge he was
in fact a Telephone Repairman, 4th Class, raised his hand, a look of enquiry
upon his haggard middle aged face. "Prey tell Lord Captain," he began "Why
do we travel so close to this barren and Godless world?"
The Captain cleared his throat "It is for reason's best known to the Divine
Holy Mother Church, required that all vessel's travelling through this star
system pass by this planet, so that we may look upon it and give thanks to
the almighty for all we have."
The assembled tour party did just that, taking in the barren feature's of
XCD345; even the Toilet Cleaner 5th Class present gave thanks for his lot.
Moses wondered briefly why this planet was so important, but then remembered
story's his Grandfather had told him in his youth, stories about people that
went missing, and ended up on planets like XCD345, all alone. Punishment by
the Church for one thing or another. Moses banished such thoughts, all
nonsense, the Church loved all God's people, it was just lucky, that is
to say it was God's will, that now days everyone loved the Church so much,
and did exactly what they were told to do. What chaos the world would be in
otherwise. And anyway, what did Grandfather know, he went out one day, and
never came back, not the behaviour of a Deck Scrubber 2nd Class! May God
have mercy on his ungrateful soul, thought Moses.
The party's gaze had slowly moved away from the increasingly sinister image
of XCD345. Moses took one last good look; it was certainly a sobering thought,
being dumped on such a world. It was just as well he was such a good Toilet
Cleaner, 3rd Class.
A little red light flashed on one of the larger control console's, the
Captain marched to it, a look of mild concern upon his face. There was
a shudder throughout the ship, not much of a shudder, but a definite
movement where none was expected. The Captain looked at the Navigator,
the Navigator looked at the Pilot, the Pilot looked at the Captain. The
shared look's were those of mild concern.
"What is it?" Asked the tour party, almost as one.
The Captain raised an eyebrow "The heathen planet speaks, a slight
gravitational anomaly nothing to be too conc..."
This time the ship shook harder, knocking people from their feet, the Captain
looked up from his prone position "Pilot, what is our tradgectory?"
The Pilot's look of mild concern had become one of extreme concern "Directly
into the planets atmosphere sir, unless we can slow down and reverse thrust
with all our power, we will have to crash land sir!"
The Captain dragged himself to his feet, now sporting the latest in facial
fashion; a very concerned look. "Slow us down then Pilot! At the hurry up!"
The pilot fiddled with the controls.
The lights went out. And the Engine stopped.
"My God what is happening?" Worried the tour party, Moses included.
"Full power failure Captain!" Informed the pilot.
"But how?" Explained the Captain.
"I know not!" Admitted the pilot.
"May God have mercy on our souls." Surmised the Captain, standing
up straight and righteous as the vast vessel dipped into the atmosphere
of XCD345 never to be seen again.
CHAPTER 2.
The crash "land" could have gone better, in retrospect. In fact, had
the pilot had the opportunity to try that again he would have probably
concentrated more on firing the landing thrusters at the correct time's
and somewhat less on the praying and screaming. As it was though, he
wouldn't, because he was dead.
The ship had fallen from the sky like a brick, and hit the floor the
right way up. Which would have been a good thing but for the speed at
which it did this. The entire hull of the ship had been crushed to
about a foot high pile of twisted red hot metal; complete with the
500 or so passengers which once sat peacefully within. The spire had
also lost quite a bit of height during the initial impact, it had then
decided that the best cause of action would be to snap in the middle
and fall violently to one side; the result of which had been to crush
one complete side of the bridge and embed the other half, sideways,
some way underground; killing all but a very few of the crew and tour
group in the process.
In the end however, it was the fire that did for most of them, and
pure fluke that the Plexiglas window on the newly job titled "upside"
of the craft simply gave up and fell in just within gripping range of
Moses who did indeed grip. Grip and climb away from the fire and the
death, through a foot or so of recently disturbed sand and out onto
the not as hot as it looked surface of the planet. There was a dust
cloud, but for some reason it only reached knee level. Moses,
through all his trauma reasoned this was to do with atmospheric
conditions. He may or may not have been correct.
He collapsed 200 or so yards away from the hole from which he had
crawled and gazed back in utter shock, he could make out some of the
mangled ship, some of the snapped spire, the impact area of the bridge,
but for this the ship was totally destroyed.
And he was alone.
"God help me..." He said.
God was not forthcoming with his assistance.
After some time, and not a small amount of staring into nothingness,
Moses managed to tear his gaze away from the awful site of the destroyed
space craft. There was however not a lot to be seen else ware; the planet
was as barren up close as it had been in orbit, even more so. Moses
panned his gaze around. Dust, Dune's, More Dust, More Dunes, Sign
post, More Dust, Dunes...
Moses paused. "Sign Post?" he said to no one in particular.
No one in particular responded.
He squinted into the distance at the apparent sign post. It had what
would appear to be writing upon it, but at this distance Moses could
not make it out, for it was indeed some way away. He began to walk
toward it, carefully, as if walking on glass or hot coals. As he
neared he could make out another sign post behind it, the text on
the first post became clearer. It was in English.
"Truth Summit" It said with some smaller writing below it. Moses
crept right up to the sign and read the smaller text with some
confusion "Toward The City of Light" said the smaller text, and
below that in an even smaller font "Universal State of Enlightenment."
Moses was perplexed; A town of some kind on a barren heathen planet
such as this? Heading toward a City no less! This was surely impossible.
Improbable. Or he had been fortunate enough to land on a planet which
maybe had the means to get him back into space and ultimately to where
he was going, he would have to tell the authority's of the loss of the
ship, but at least he would be back home. Moses almost ran to the next
sign, it was similar to the last, and as Moses reached it he realised
he was in fact reading signs on a crossroads on a primitive dust track,
the first lead to "Truth Summit", the second, apparently, to "Truth Peak".
He moved to the third sign, it read "Truth Planes". All apparently lead
to The City of Light. He gazed back from the direction he had come from and
saw the spire, or the part of it that was still visible, there was oddly no
sign post following the dust track in that direction.
Moses looked from one sign to the others.
"I'm perplexed" He said, perplexed.
There was a pregnant pause.
"Ip dip sky blue," Moses began pointing a finger at the signs in rhythm
with the poem "the path I choose is... you". His pointing finger settled
upon Truth Peak, and with conviction he set off in that direction.
CHAPTER 3.
The dust track was dull. It was dull for a very long time, Moses couldn't
tell exactly how long it had been before it got slightly less dull. But it
did, and it did so as he noticed an old man standing in front of what was
evidently an erect artists canvas on the side of the road.
"Ever more perplexing." Commented Moses.
He moved closer to the man on the road side, taking a second to admire
the rather poor painting of the barren landscape the man was painting
before he introduced himself "Greetings," He said "I am Moses."
The old man looked at him kindly "Greetings young man." He said, then
carried on painting.
Moses looked uncomfortable "Excuse me sir, may I ask where I am?"
"You may." Said the Old Man.
There was a pause.
Moses coughed politely "Where am I?" He asked.
"Your on Enlightenment." Said the Old Man adding some ill conceived
streaks of purple light onto the skyline of his painting.
"On Enlightenment?" Asked Moses.
"The planet Enlightenment." Said a third voice, Moses looked up and
over the old man's shoulder, there was an old women in a deck chair.
Moses thought it odd he had not noticed her to begin with.
"I did not know such a planet existed, are you part of the Holy
Empire?"
The old man looked at Moses with some apparent distaste "The
what?"
"The Holy Empire." Repeated Moses.
"Oooh No dear..." Said the old women, giving the impression there
was more to come. There wasn't. The old man continued to paint,
the women just sat and smiled encouragingly at Moses.
Moses fell silent.
"Is the city of light that way?" Asked Moses after some time, to
make conversation if nothing else. He pointed down the track.
"Yes." Said the old couple together.
There was another silence.
"Are you two from the city?"
"Oooh No Dear..." Again she had no more to offer.
There was yet another pause. If Moses had not been such a holy man,
he would probably have been loosing his patience by now.
"Then where are you from?"
"That's the problem with the youth of today" said the old man after
a few seconds "always asking questions; what's this? Where is this?
Where does this fit? Is it big enough?" He sighed and planted a stick
giraffe onto the sand dune he had painted in the middle distance.
Moses saw this.
"Why are you painting that Giraffe there?" Asked Moses politely.
"Why not?" Said the old man "I quite like it there. It's very me."
I'm sure it is, thought Moses. "Where is the nearest Church, I am in
need of food and water?" It was a perfectly sensible question, Moses
thought.
The old couple began to laugh.
"There are no churches on Enlightenment..." Smiled the old women.
"No Churches?" Moses was stunned "How can this be?"
"We don't need them." Interjected the old man.
"But..."
"No buts." Said the old man "And no churches either." He added, and
noting that Moses was about to protest in some way or form continued
"You see this painting young man?"
Moses nodded, he did.
"This brings out the truth" explained the old man.
"A picture of landscape with a purple... blob in the sky and an
imaginary giraffe on a sand dune is the truth?" Asked Moses.
"Why not?" Said the old man "Make's just as much sense as anything
else; the painting is my truth, it came from me and I understand it,
why should spirituality be any different young sir?"
"That does not explain how you... heathen's live without church!"
Exclaimed Moses.
"Oooh no dear." Smiled the old women "What do you get told at
church?"
"The Word of God!"
"And what does his word have to do with you, surely good is good,
positive is positive. If your God's word is good, is positive, then
you being positive is the same as... wouldn't you agree?"
Moses thought about this... "No!" He protested, "Yes" he admitted,
"I don't know" he settled on.
The old women chuckled "No dear, and nor does anyone else, least of
all the church, so don't be fooled; now I think you should head for
the city, here..." She reached under her deck chair and withdrew a
plastic flask, the type your aunty takes on long car journeys
"Take this, and good luck."
Moses took the flask, thanked the women and trundled off down the road,
trying not to think about what she had said. Behind him a purple cloud
moved briskly though the sky. A Giraffe bobbed from behind a sand dune, a
nd an old man smiled.
CHAPTER 4.
Now it wasn't long before the dullness of the dust track forced the mind
of Moses to start considering what the old lady had said. The first thing
it considered was how "out of the blue" her comments had been. That had
been strange, no one spoke like that, other than priests, but she certainly
wasn't one of those. Women priests, whatever next.
The second thing his brain considered was how right she had been. And this
made Moses feel bad and not a little worried. For a moment he thought he
needed a Church more than ever, then a moment latter in stark contrast to
this a little voice in his head appeared and told him he most certainly
did not. Moses frowned at the little voice, not that the little voice
could see this, and his trundle became a stomp.
There was much more stomping before anything at all happened.
"You look angry" Said a women's voice from next to Moses.
Moses jumped, and looked to the source of the sound, his immediate left
and there she was. Just walking with him. Indeed a women. She wasn't
wearing very much, being a man (albeit a holy one) this was the first
thing he noticed. Moses wondered how she had lost all her clothes.
Bandits maybe? He averted his eye's despite his shock then asked the
question that was obviously (and with good reason) upon his mind;
"Where in God's name did you come from?"
The women laughed. She was tall and slim and blonde and all the things
Moses spent a lot of his time trying not to think about. She was
beautiful. She was talking to him. She was wearing her underwear.
Moses felt God, as he knew it, had very little to do with things
like this, this was firmly in the jurisdiction of "The Other Side"
"I came from over there" she pointed vaguely in the direction of
something or other, Moses naturally didn't see this as he was still
busy averting his eye's.
"I see" he lied (in every possible sense).
"Where are you going?" She asked absently, keeping up pace with
his stomping.
"The City" He said, wanting to add more, to start a conversation,
but simply not knowing how. It was not a good thing for a man such
as himself to talk to a women wearing no clothes, let alone one he
had just met. Went against everything the church had taught him.
Right from school the church had drummed home the differences
between men and women, and the reasons they should be kept apart
for all but the briefest of encounters, those necessary to start
a family. Moses remembered times as a child when he had actually
started to believe women were in fact aliens. His view had not
changed in essence as he matured. He was already out of his depth
less than 10 words into the conversation.
"The City? Why are you going there?" She asked, a curious smile upon
her face and a playful tone in her voice.
Moses opened his mouth to speak, but didn't. He didn't know the answer,
and he didn't want to admit that for fear of sounding foolish.
"You don't know do you?" She asked.
Too late, he thought. He looked at her for a second, then embarrassed
looked away, back in the direction of his somewhat lighter grade of
stomping was taking him.
"It's ok not to know where you are going." She commented, almost idly.
Moses again opened his mouth to speak, but again nothing came out. Just
a small murmur.
"I don't know where I am going either..." She said.
Moses felt a little better about himself all of a sudden. Opened his
mouth once again, but was still unable to speak.
"It's ok" she said kindly, "There is no need to be afraid of me, I am
really no different to you." She continued to walk by his side in what
can only be described as a comforting manner.
Moses thought about this for a great number of stomps, she didn't know
where he she was going either, he thought. This made him feel better.
He didn't know why. Then, quite unexpectedly, for the first time in his
life he looked at a women as if she was human. He was quite surprised
about how human she looked, even with no clothes on, he smiled at her,
albeit a little shyly.
She smiled back.
Then someone shouted very loudly over his shoulder.
CHAPTER 5
"HEY MISTER WHO ARE YOU?" Someone shouted.
Moses spun around and seeing no one, looked instinctively down, there
was a young girl of around 8 or 9 years old standing there, looking very
sweet and innocent, being very loud as is so often the case.
"HEY MISTER WHO ARE YOU?" She repeated.
Moses turned back around to address the women who had been walking
with him, but she had gone. He gazed into the distance. Nothing.
Sand and dunes, nothing else. Moses was once more perplexed.
"ARE YOU DEAF OR SOMETHIN'?" The girl screamed.
Moses turned back to her "No I am quite able eared thank you" he said,
"Did you see where that women went?"
The girl nodded.
Moses had played this game with the elderly couple earlier and wasn't
about to let it get the better of him a second time. "Where did she go?"
he asked.
The girl shrugged "Who knows, somewhere nicer than this I'll bet."
"I thought you said you saw were she went?"
The girl pointed vaguely in a direction which might have been over
there. "She went over there, I don't know where she got to."
"But surely..." Moses trailed off. Moses sighed. He would never get
the hang of this place, wherever it was, and nor did he want to. Well
not much. Well, ok he did, but he wouldn't, he had better more important
things to do at present. The people here were insane, very strange, he
didn't like it, by God he was going to get himself out of this.
"See." Said the little girl.
Moses looked at her "See what?" he asked.
"No churches on Enlightenment, none at all, but you still believe in
God. You still believe your going to get home." She smiled.
Moses was getting suspicious of all this now, it was becoming rather
fuzzy around the edges, something was not quite right "You know a lot
for one so young." He commented.
The girl shrugged once more.
"Maybe," she said "but you know very little for one so old..."
Moses was about to dispute this, when all of a sudden he didn't want to
anymore. Or couldn't. Or both.
"But it's ok," she added "It's not your fault... and learning is easy
when you want to."
"It is?"
She nodded.
"Then I guess I want to." Moses heard himself say.
Then something happened, Moses couldn't quite make out what it was at
first, a bright light, a very unpleasant feeling, his body moving in
an awkward fashion then it became clear.
He finally woke up.
The television in his sub-home was on, the small room about 10 feet by
10 feet was dark but for the dim light of the silver screen, Moses
squinted into the distance at the TV, he couldn't quite make out the
picture, images of the apparent dream flooded back the way they sometimes
do, strange thoughts remained in Moses's head. He sat up and stretched and
could suddenly make out the sounds of voices from the television...
It was evidently an old black and white movie, naturally biblical in
nature, the Church Network didn't show anything else, Ahh, That's what
it was.
"...and Moses lead his people to freedom." Said the narrator.
Moses looked around his sub-room, at all the religious iconology on the
walls, even on the carpet, he rubbed his beard, looked defiantly at his
toilet cleaning rotor, looked even more defiantly at his toilet cleaning
uniform and spake unto the empty room;
"I most certainly will."
And he most certainly would.
---
PaRiS
www.retrogeekretard.org
"You Are Not Forgotten."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Turning of The Circle
=====================
As always, something bad is bound to happen. Take for instance the rock scene.
I, myself attend a small town rock night in a club called Ministry.
At first it was pretty interesting; seeing all people that I have the same
interests as dancing about not giving a care in the world, crazed up people
doing their own thing on the dance floor. Since those days, two years ago.
The scene's changed:
-- You begin to hear the same songs repeated every week.
-- You see the same faces.
-- You begin to feel as much as the regular you are, talking to the bouncers.
No thrill of the thought "Shit I've left my id behind-they'll ask me. Don't
ask me, don't ask me, don't ask me." you get the idea.
-- You get your pint, take the seat in the alcove that you always sit in.
-- Watch the same people playing the same game of pool - always with the same
winner.
-- Eyeing up the same people.
-- Watching the same drunks from the local pub wander in.
-- You see the true faces of those dancing, the faces, the laughing expressions
of taking fun of someone's movements. Rarely you'll meet people who go there for
the same purpose - to hang out, have fun, drink more alcohol than ever - act the
pratt that you truly are and have everyone love you for your simpleton
ways. Have scar comparison competitions. You'll get the people who are there
simply for the pull. Oh he's nice. Phwoar! look at him. *nudge nudge* he's
cute. She's got big tits. Look at the arse on that (goes for both sexes)
A change is needed.
Whatever you do in life. You end up in the same circle. No matter what you're
doing, who you're with, who you want to be with, who you're not with. It's the
same. Same old circle. It's only until someone points out your place in the
circle that you try to fight it and break away.
Never quite reaching that break. Never snapping the edge. Always stuck inside
the border. That goes for anything in life's course. On a final and more true
note. I have the brain power of three specially selected sheep sharing a flea.
Laura.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Accepting Change?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Okay before I even begin to write this article, I am going to make a few
admissions, and a few points. So bare with me. Firstly; I admit that in the
past I may have been guilty of doing exactly what I about to complain about;
I admit this. However, that time has past, and I would spare other's that
pain, so don't take me for a hypocrite, just read and take onboard the
suggestion, the enlightened opinion that I present.
Secondly, I know this article may piss a few people of (close or otherwise).
Please do not take this article personally; if you see your self within
it's words, take head of my advice and do what you feel is right. For once,
this is not a personal attack. It's just that (these famous words...);
It's time to get something off my chest again.
And with that disclaimer done and dusted, I digress.
The world is changing, constantly. This is a fact. Western society in the
early 21st century is changing, even as we speak, the internet and the
freedom of speech and expression that it has inspired has changed the
demographics of society and global culture in more, and varied ways that
could have ever been imagined 10 years ago. Specifically in this text I
am going to talk about youth culture, and "internet underground culture".
I do not limit myself within these topics to the influence of the internet
as a single entity, I expand this premise to include the concept of the
global media, lost? I shall explain.
We are all unwilling participants in a great social experiment called Global
Media (and I only touch upon this evil here).
What does that mean? That means media which knows no international boundaries.
Media which is in essence based in limbo; in cyberspace, in that which no one
(in truth) yet (and note the "yet") controls.
But what does this have to do with anything?
In the past sub-cultures have been a popular way for individuals to "rebel"
or "express their individualism" through a structured medium (which some
would in fact suggest is a contradiction in terms, but for the moment let
us forget that). In particular, teenagers, "youth", the younger generations
have been prone to select a sub-culture which they feel suits their
personality (or at least, doesn't suit the local norm's) and dive head
long into a "way of life", for their maturing years at least.
I speak of the goth, the punk, the indie, the alternative, the mods,
the rockers; structured sub cultures which have noticeable traits,
norms and expectation of devotees.
Not all people feel the need, or are able to gain the personal "strength"
needed to move themselves from the perceived "norm" (of the given society)
and into one of these varied sub-cultures.
Let us forget the people who are unable or unwilling to express their
individuality. They are not important to me as regard this text, they
have chosen the path of the sheep; let them be in their ignorance, for
some claim it is bliss.
I wish to focus on those who choose to place themselves within one of these
sub categories, then move on to discuss their attitudes to the changes in
world "global culture" in the early 21st century.
Personally, I find it hard to draw the any real, core, differences
between someone (who say, taking the UK models of "Individuality" vs.
the norm in respect sub-cultures) religiously wares Ben Sherman shirts,
and mocks those who do not, and say someone who religiously wares a Slip
Knot T-shirt, and mocks those who don't. On a moral level is there any
REAL difference?
The only difference I can perceive is the attitudes of the different
groups to a) new comers, and b) change.
The "norms" (who admittedly, is possibly more ignorant in general terms;
they are after all wearing what the glossy fashion mags are telling them
to ware, in it's crudest form, which surely DOES suggest a certain amount
of suggestibility within their personalities) do not care if a new,
perhaps younger, perhaps older group of individual's begin to wear
what they are wearing and act how they act.
Individuals who are active members of a sub culture often present either
suppressed or down right acute aggression toward new comers to their
particular elk. For example: The trend, in the UK at the moment is
leaning toward a more "Skater" like image, more and more people from
the pool of potential "norms" are beginning to wear and in most ways
act like the "skater" sub culture (The reasons for this are touched
upon later). And how is this social development met by the "older"
skater's? Hostility.
I am constantly hearing from such people statements such as; "The scene
is dead, full of teeny boppers", "There is no point going to clubs anymore,
full of kids dressed like skaters", and side stepping from that scenario
into one closer to home "No more real hackers..." etc, etc.
I believe this is not a fault of "norms" trying to be something they are not,
why they would do this is touched upon shortly and although in certain
circumstances this can be the case, but an elaborate underlining of the
inherent INSECURITY'S of individuals who dig themselves into a (somewhat
restricting) sub culture in the first place.
And it *is* the same (and I *have* been guilty of this in the past) for
the new, and old "hacker" cultures; the old stubbornly refuses to accept
the new on the premise of an imaginary "selling out" or "dilution" of the
"hardcore" ideals of the sub culture, when surely a sub culture is only
made up of the individuals who choose to act within, and conform to it's
norms at any one given time in the first place!
The same hostile attitude from these individuals is also present in their
attitudes to change within their own subculture; for example metal and
other alternative music "falling out" over the past 5 years or so or the
contempt of older "hackers" (using the term loosely) for the "AOL Generation"
(which they, myself included, have made very little attempt the educate).
So what does this tell us?
I have already mentioned an evident insecurity within the individuals whom
one usually finds within these sub cultures; I now attempt to dissect these.
Why does one feel the need to join a sub culture in the first place? Many
will claim that one joins what they feel to be the "place for them". I
suggest this is the minority "fact". The truth of the matter is, most
join to feel like they belong, even if the ideal's of the culture are not
their own; peer pressure, loneliness, insecurity, a hormonal or pathological
want to rebel against the perceived norm, all these things drive individuals
(in particular teenagers) toward the lure of rebellious subcultures, which in
truth detract as much from their potential individuality as they do stimulate
it.
So what's new about this?
Point (and tying up the Why? loose ends from previous paragraphs): More
people are drawn to these subcultures because of the Global Media
(that's what I was talking about!); more ppl are drawn into what they
think these sub-cultures will make them; them being insecure about
themselves and who they really are. For example: People who never
before would have considered becoming a goth, go to a few goth websites
and feel that that style, that sub-culture is for them. This is a fact.
So what am I saying?
Point: As more and more sub-cultures turn in on themselves (and they are),
as a direct result of a fear of change, and the overwhelming numbers of
people now wishing to bask in the (so called) "individualistic expression"
these groups can supposedly bring (...the insecure and weak minded), I
wish to make this statement:
Surely the quest for your individuality is best pursued down a road which
does not lead you directly to a opposing, yet structured culture of yet
more values, ideals and ideas which you may or may not agree with in
totality. When the goal is to find your self why look for other people's
ideas; and wonder why, when the novelty wears off, or the demographics
of your new found social utopia change you are left as empty as when
you started out.
The only place you will find yourself is within your own heart and
mind.
Accepting change, in both yourself, and in the world around you is part of
this process.
Skater's, Ben Sherman addicts, Goth's, Punks, Metal Heads, hackers, warez
kiddies; whatever, whoever. You are all the same to me; as a collective you
are lost sheep. Because in embracing one thing as the whole, the only, you
denie the possibility of change and restrict your individuality to the ideals
of the group collective; over which you have no control. Accepting change,
and the possibility of change, in both the wider world, and your own self is
key to truly feeling like you belong (something you cannot do if you are
forever relying on the communicated "individualistic" traits of others, in
the form of a sub-culture of some description).
Why do things HAVE to stay the same and why do thoughts have to mirror all
"acceptable" others, at the sake of your INDIVIDUAL happiness (not to mention
to possibility of social interaction on a truly individual, not sectarian
driven basis) to maintain a sub-cultural falsification of "togetherness"
which only really exists for the briefest moment in YOUR OWN HEAD while
you feel "you belong" to one sect or another?
Where is the individual in that?
---
PaRiS
www.retrogeekretard.org
"You Are Not Forgotten."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Syndicate of London Frequently Asked Questions
==============================================
The Syndicate of London, Established 1992, www.whitedust.net/newsol/. This
is all well and good but means nothing to a lot of you people, so with
that in mind, here is the SoL FAQ.
Q: What is the Syndicate of London?
A: The Syndicate of London is a group of (historically) anything between 5
and 20 members, who merge their various personal projects into the
collective of SoL, write for the SoL publications and general add to
the whole.
Q: How does one become a member?
A: Perspective Members are usually asked to join SoL because of their
achievements, skills or talents. Only people who have something to
"Add" to the collective are asked to join. Historically there have been
many and varied reasons for user's being invited to join SoL, it just
depends on the mood of the moment and the individual's involved.
Q: What's the point?
A: Two heads are better than one, and a collective of skilled (in various
area's) head's are better than that. Strength through diversity of
skill, not to mention numbers make SoL a versatile entity capable of
production and information distribution on a relatively large scale. Put
simply: Any project we can conceive, we can put resources (in both man
power and skill) toward the completion of.
Q: What are the groups aims?
A: Totally depends on the Project Manager of the time, the user base,
world political climate and 100 other factors; SoL have roots within
the PRE-Internet underground culture. Freedom Speech and Information are
the basis of the SoL ethic. Or perhaps it should be, do what thou wilt
shall be the whole of the lore?
Q: It didn't start like that did it?
A: No, when SoL was formed it was a Pirate/Demo crew on the Atari ST and
Amiga range of home computers. We hated PC's. The project evolved into
the entity which is SoL. We are proud of our past, and confident in our
future; doing whatever we feel aids ourselves and others at the given
time.
Q: How long has SoL been around then?
A: 10 years. It's true to say there were about 2 years (1996-98) when
*nothing* was actually done by SoL, but the group (most of the members
at the time lived geographically close to each other) was still an
"Entity". So 10 years it is.
Q: Formed 10 years ago, that would make you old?
A: Yes. The syndicate of london is old, some of it's members have aged
with it, although we have had quite a high turnover of members over the
years.
Q: You speak a lot of projects, what are these projects and where can they
be found?
A: www.whitedust.net/newsol/ has a complete list of these projects. The
most important SoL projects at the time of writing are the Soljo
(www.retrogeekretard.org/soljo/) RGR its' self (www.retrogeekretard.org)
and arguably www.cotch.net, although all SoL projects are of some
merit.
Q: Who is in charge of SoL?
A: Short answer the Projects Manager, long answer the Projects Manager
with support of the Admin.
Q: Who is the Projects Manager?
A: Cronus.
Q: Who are the Admin?
A: PaRiS & JerichoZZ (Arguably Steinsky). Admin is a loose term for
respected or older members.
Q: How does a member become The Projects Manager?
A: There is no easy answer to that, historically the user with the most
support within the SoL Admin becomes the Projects Manager, although
that's not the only way it could happen.
Q: Can I join?
A: Probably not.
---
PaRiS
www.retrogeekretard.org
paris@retrogeekretard.org
"2 Time (2 Time) Syndicate of London Projects Manager"
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Fun With Wiccans
================
[Preface: This is lame, but we were bored and it made us laugh at the time,
we don't have anything against 90% of the users in #wicca, thus this little
giggle at them was not malicious, and I bet it even made some of them laugh,
It's a pitty *certain* operators of the #wicca community (those who take
them selves and that little @ by their name far too seriously were not there,
but you can't have everything. The log gets better toward the end, but builds
up to it, so read the lot to get it all.]
Session Start: Fri Dec 06 17:22:20 2002
Session Ident: #wicca
[17:22] *** Now talking in #wicca
[17:22] *** Topic is 'Welcome to #Wicca, topics on Wicca and spirituality are
encouraged. Channel Website and rules @ http://www.dalwicca.org |
Join our mailing list http://groups.yahoo.com/group/dalwicca | Join
our MessageBoard: www.dalwicca.org/forum | Candle Magick class log
posted @ www.dalwicca.org'
[Here we enter, unbeknown to the #wicca crew, the sol crew are very bored
we decide to take a very lame and uninventive angle; which amazingly
actually causes the chaos, and hilarity we wanted!]
[17:22] Paulyn : hello
[17:23] Father^Foosball : MM Paulyn
[17:23] Paulyn : what is wicca?
[17:24] MelancholySojourn : furniture...stinky when wet and overpriced :)
[17:24] Father^Foosball : a nature based belief system
[17:24] Father^Foosball : Not that stuff MelancholySojourn, thats WICKER
not WICCA
[17:24] MelancholySojourn : hehehe
[17:24] * Father^Foosball slaps MelancholySojourn and then gives her a
big ass kiss
[17:24] Father^Foosball : silly woman
[17:26] * MelancholySojourn starts singing in true lounge lizard style....
"I gotta be me..ohhh i gotta be me"
[17:26] Paulyn : i see
[17:26] Paulyn : is it satan?
[This is bound to get their attention, the wiccan's hate that]
[17:26] * Father^Foosball sits at piano, accompanying her
[17:26] ArcticFox : what? I thought it was a organization for the advancement
of wisconsin christian africans
[17:26] ArcticFox : damn it, i knew i was in the wrong channel
[The first "comeback"]
[17:26] MelancholySojourn : satan is a christian deity
[17:26] MelancholySojourn : er subangel...er something like that
[17:26] Father^Foosball : Not at all, matter of fact Satan is a part
of the Christian religions
[We add fuel to the fire...]
[17:28] Paulyn : i see, everyone says witches are evil
[17:29] MelancholySojourn : hmm didnt they once say the world was flat too?
[17:30] Paulyn : i dont know.
[Claim ignorance, works a charm when trying to upset people.]
[17:30] Father^Foosball : Witches aren't evil
[17:30] Father^Foosball : Witches at one point were the doctors and midwives
of the world
[17:30] MelancholySojourn : i remember when people used to think electricity
was evil...fear of the unknown
[17:31] Paulyn : is electricity evil?
[And stupidity, stupidity is a great way to get ppl to react.]
[17:32] Father^Foosball : your that old Mel?
[17:32] MelancholySojourn : yup didnt ya know?:)
[17:32] Father^Foosball : Well, is a gun evil? Is a pencil evil?
[17:32] Paulyn : yes guns are evil
[17:32] Paulyn : pencils are not
[And more stupidity (if it aint broke don't fix it)]
[17:32] MelancholySojourn : barney and martha stewart are evil
[17:32] MelancholySojourn : so is anna nicole smith but.........
[17:33] MelancholySojourn : what if you use a pencil to stab a person's
eye out...does the pencil become evil?
[17:33] Paulyn : yes!
[17:33] Paulyn : killing is evil
[17:33] Father^Foosball : How are guns evil?
[17:34] MelancholySojourn : but the person killed..not the pencil..
the pencil was just a helpless tool
[17:34] * MelancholySojourn banishes the bad pencil :)
[17:35] Paulyn : guns are for killing
[17:34] Father^Foosball : But are all guns used for killin?
[Here it comes... The twist of logic...]
[17:35] Paulyn : are you telling me that you think that pencils are for
stabbing?
[17:35] Paulyn : maybe what others say about witches are true
[17:36] Father^Foosball : I would have to disagree
[17:36] MelancholySojourn : maybe what others say about muggles are true
[17:36] * MelancholySojourn smiles sweetly
[17:36] Father^Foosball : I am trying to get you to think here...
[17:37] * Father^Foosball thwaps Mel
[17:37] MelancholySojourn : lolol
[17:37] Father^Foosball : No Rowling this early please
[17:37] MelancholySojourn : well its a better term than mundane
[17:38] MelancholySojourn : imho
[17:38] Father^Foosball : true
[17:38] Paulyn : i do not know what muggles is
[We do, it means "a non magic using person" from the Harry Potter books,
what relevance it has in actual wiccan faith is anyone's guess although the
answer should be: NONE, as I am sure many wiccan's will agree. But hey ho.]
[17:38] Father^Foosball : Paulyn: see, you can say Witches are evil, and
I could say Chrsitians are evil, because they actually kill more
people worldwide
[17:39] Paulyn : they might be evil
[17:39] Paulyn : i am muslim
[Yes lets get politically incorrect!]
[17:39] Paulyn : we are good people
[17:39] Frank_Blues : Er, you are hey...
[17:40] * Father^Foosball splutters
[Well the wiccan's are joining us in being politically incorrect, I wonder
if that's a wiccan thing to do?]
[17:40] Father^Foosball : what about the Jihad then?
[17:40] Paulyn : our Jihad kills only evil people it is right.
[Ignorance again, lets see if we can work them up into a violent mob]
[17:41] Father^Foosball : To answer your original question: Witches
are no more evil than your mother or your brother
[17:41] Paulyn : but those who appose allah are infidels.
[17:41] Paulyn : and will die now and thus be released
[17:43] Frank_Blues : And how is it decided who opposes Allah?
[17:43] Paulyn : infidels fear jihad
[17:43] *** Cthulhu (Paul@Aef1d.pppool.de) has joined #wicca
[Enter reinforcements]
[17:43] Frank_Blues : Cthulhu!
[17:43] Father^Foosball : No, I fear Cthulhu
[17:43] xCaede : And the Mohammedan heretics, or whomever is being attacked
for their infidelity, are frequently evil only in the realm of the
Jihad -- outside of it, they are good people, and killing them is evil.
[17:44] Paulyn : yes
[17:44] *** dale (dale@mesra.staff.dalnet) has joined #wicca
[Enter DALnet Services Admin... (Probably due to the "Massive Threat"
supposedly posed by certain people who will remain nameless...
pft...]
[17:44] Paulyn : but evil now makes you an infidel now regardless of the past
[17:45] Frank_Blues : Cthulhu: Have you read userfriendly latley?
[17:45] *** curious_one (Enter@fi-tnt01556.zapsurf.com.sg) has joined #wicca
[17:45] Father^Foosball : good choice of words Caede
[17:45] Cthulhu : Frank_Blues: No, sorry
[17:45] curious_one : hey
[17:45] Father^Foosball : MM curious_one and Cthulhu
[17:46] curious_one : ????
[Ahhh a real life retard... Not just a play actin' one.]
[17:46] Father^Foosball : it means Merry Meet
[17:46] Paulyn : see
[17:46] Paulyn : evil things you talk about, stabbing people with pencils
[17:46] Cthulhu2 : Paulyn! I'm here to eat you!
[17:46] xCaede : Yummy.
[17:46] MelancholySojourn : lol
[17:46] Father^Foosball : LOL ok I am an Infidel, bless you
[17:46] ArcticFox : lol
[17:46] Paulyn : you cannot eat me, allah is my protector
[17:47] xCaede : I've heard Paulyn is good with a light Valpocelli. (sp)
[17:47] MelancholySojourn : why bother asking if we are evil etc if your
mind is already made up..thats like an oxymoron....like military
intelligence:)
[17:47] curious_one : u guys are not really serious are u
[17:47] Paulyn : because i want to know the truth
[17:47] curious_one : pencils
[17:47] curious_one : ..........
[17:47] MelancholySojourn : um dont you think more of us would be in jail if
we did such things?
[17:47] Father^Foosball : Paulyn: THAT was an example
[17:47] xCaede : Paulyn> Here's a little flow chart. Jihad = Kills 'evil'
people. Killing in most circumstances = Evil. Jihad = Evil.
[Is it? Ok... lets not go and tell #iran that one #wicca, I'm sure they would
be calling you ignorant here, the anti-muslim feeling in certain people
appears quite high in the chan... They are mostly American though ;)]
[17:47] Paulyn : curious_one: they spoke of stabbing people with pencils
[17:47] MelancholySojourn : and allah will be laughing at you for being so
foolish:)
[17:48] MelancholySojourn : doesnt allah tell you the truth?
[17:48] Paulyn : allah will be burning your soul for being evil
[17:48] Paulyn : i am a fool but you are evil
[17:48] MelancholySojourn : isnt it blasphemous to try to get the truth from
allah's enemies?
[17:48] curious_one : allah is supposed to be muslim
[17:48] Paulyn : i am muslim
[17:48] MelancholySojourn : correction.....we were asking if a pencil was
evil in itself if used as a weapon to kill a person
[17:48] Paulyn : see!
[17:49] xCaede : I rather like my soul Medium Rare. If he could maybe
flip me only once, and remove me from his Divine Grill quickly, I'd
appreciate it a lot.
[17:49] Paulyn : they are talking about killing with pencils
[17:49] Father^Foosball : OK folks... let it rest
[17:49] curious_one : my soul will be burned???
[17:49] Paulyn : sick minds
[17:49] Father^Foosball : OK folks... let it rest
[17:49] curious_one : i know
[17:49] Father^Foosball : and again, that was an example
[17:49] * curious_one stabs around
[17:49] * Father^Foosball sits down and takes out his bag o' shtuff
[17:50] Paulyn : see they are stabbing
[17:50] Father^Foosball : think alike, Paulyn
[17:50] Cthulhu_ : Paulyn: Killing with pencils? Do you mean the word is
stronger than the weapon?
[17:50] * curious_one draws an out of shape pentagram
[17:50] Paulyn : killing with pencils is wrong.
[Lets stick with the pencil's thing...]
[17:50] * MelancholySojourn eeks and climbs up in a tree
[17:50] * Father^Foosball pulls out his size 12 double wides, 12
loop military issue jump boots and slowly stings them on
[17:50] * Cthulhu_ asks MelancholySojourn for shelter
[17:50] * MelancholySojourn gives cthulhu a leg up into the tree
[17:50] * curious_one tries to summon up a ghost from the past
[17:50] Father^Foosball : I prefer to kill with a spork
[Now in many respects, this was their first real mistake, bringing up sporks.]
[17:51] Paulyn : what is spork?!!
[Told you so...]
[17:51] MelancholySojourn : nah spatula..lasts a lot longer:)
[17:51] MelancholySojourn : a spork is what you get in a kentucky fried chicken
meal:)
[17:51] Father^Foosball : ahhh
[17:51] Paulyn : what are these things with chickens you speak of?
[17:52] * Father^Foosball stands and tests the fit of his jump boots
[17:52] *** KoNSeRTo||TeRaKHiR (~localhost@210.186.103.44) has joined #wicca
[17:52] KoNSeRTo||TeRaKHiR : Ko nak op ker?Kalau nak op kene cium ketiak aku
dulu.
[17:52] Paulyn : what are you doing with this spork and the chickens?
[17:52] Father^Foosball : MM KoNSeRTo||TeRaKHiR
[17:52] KoNSeRTo||TeRaKHiR : mmm
[17:52] KoNSeRTo||TeRaKHiR : oi
[17:52] KoNSeRTo||TeRaKHiR : Jangan laa main kick.Aku kasi flying kiss kang.
Kekekekek.....!!~
[17:52] Father^Foosball : Having lunch Paulyn
[17:53] Father^Foosball : KoNSeRTo||TeRaKHiR: This is an English chan please
[17:53] Paulyn : lunch??
[17:53] KoNSeRTo||TeRaKHiR : Jangan laa main kick.Aku kasi flying kiss kang.
Kekekekek.....!!~
[17:53] Paulyn : salam heij solou solou chingala?
[Yes some bollox "foreign" conversation should add to the mess...]
[17:53] KoNSeRTo||TeRaKHiR : Aku dengan selamba menjawab salam.....
Waalaikum salamzzzzzzzz.......!!~
[17:53] *** KoNSeRTo||TeRaKHiR (~localhost@210.186.103.44) has left #wicca
[17:53] ArcticFox : Father^Foosball; as annoying as the pencils are, at
least people are talking
[17:54] MelancholySojourn : k but your not putting those stinky feet on my
couch just so you know ;)
[Anyway, back to the sporks...]
[17:54] Paulyn : why you kill chickens with sporks huh huh?
[17:54] * Father^Foosball thwaps Paulyn
[17:54] Father^Foosball : OK now your reaching for idiocy
[17:54] Paulyn : WHY?
[17:54] Paulyn : i do not understand what spork is and why you have lunch
with chicken
[17:54] ArcticFox : we don't kill them with sporks, big machines kill them,
we just eat em with sporks
[17:55] Paulyn : you confuse me
[17:55] Father^Foosball : ok
[17:55] Paulyn : my english is only ok
[17:55] MelancholySojourn : its not too hard ;)
[17:55] xCaede : A spork is an advanced culinary impliment, a dynamic
fusion of a spoon and a fork.
[17:55] Father^Foosball : a spork is a fork and spoon in one eating utensil
[17:55] Paulyn : witches have big machines to kill chickens?!
[Genius!]
[17:55] xCaede : A less advanced version is the "foon", a fork / spoon.
[17:55] ArcticFox : took thousands of years to develope the spork, the
ultimate eatting utility
[17:55] Father^Foosball : xCaede: LOL
[17:55] ArcticFox : lol
[17:56] Paulyn : I do not know what to make of your wicca
[17:56] Paulyn : you talk of things i do not understand and machines
which kill chickens
[That crossed a line apparently...]
[17:57] *** You were kicked by Father^Foosball (OK your fun while you
lasted, but now you need to go)
[17:57] *** Attempting to rejoin...
[17:57] *** Rejoined channel #wicca
[17:57] Paulyn : what have i done wrong?
[17:57] Paulyn : why to be kicking me?
[17:57] Paulyn : i am sorry
[17:57] Paulyn : :(
[Yes lets talk in broken english from now on, should add to the confusion no?]
[17:57] *** Amaris (trilluser@host213-122-66-46.in-addr.btopenworld.com)
has joined #wicca
[Aha, more reinforcements!]
[17:58] Father^Foosball : MM Amaris
[17:58] MelancholySojourn : im the sporkenator....if youwant to cut your
meat...too bad...if you want to slurp and not poke yur lip..i dont
care (arnold swartznegger voice)
[17:58] Paulyn : what is this you speak of now?
[17:58] Paulyn : I try to understand
[17:59] ArcticFox : don't worry, he doesn't even understand himself
[17:59] Paulyn : ok this is joke yes?
[17:59] Paulyn : your humour, not like it is am here
[17:59] Father^Foosball : yes it is
[17:59] Paulyn : it is?
[18:00] Father^Foosball : it is humor yes
[18:00] Paulyn : then what is funny to you? and no more chickens with the
sporks in the machines
[18:00] Paulyn : i do not understand that
[18:00] Amaris : pls to no understand.
[18:00] Paulyn : i to not understand either
[18:01] Paulyn : we are finished with sporks and MelancholySojourn speaks
of such things again
[18:01] Paulyn : let us talk about goats
[18:01] ArcticFox : a spork is only used in Gardenerian Wicca
[18:01] * curious_one shpens watever the spok is and stabs at MelancholySojourn
[18:01] MelancholySojourn : lol
[18:01] Amaris : spork? speak what be spork ?
[18:01] curious_one : ooo
[18:01] MelancholySojourn : im in a tree short person, remember?
[18:01] curious_one : real wicca user in here?
[18:01] Paulyn : amaris: spork is a spoon and a fork used to kill the chicken
[18:01] Paulyn : or a machine
[18:02] Paulyn : i am not to be certain
[See It was bound to get better...]
[18:02] curious_one : real wicca user in here?
[18:02] Cthulhu_ : curious_one: I am
[18:02] Amaris : sacred chicken. no speak of chicken pls.
[18:02] * Father^Foosball lays his head on his desk and whimpers
[hahaha]
[18:02] curious_one : chicken?
[18:02] Paulyn : goat?
[18:02] MelancholySojourn : eat the chicken not kill it...its killed before
we eat it
[18:02] ArcticFox : hence the big machines
[18:02] Paulyn : MelancholySojourn : is this a ritual of wicca?
[18:03] Amaris : Timing. Pls to time a chicken.
[18:03] MelancholySojourn : no real people that eat real food:)
[18:03] xCaede : Doesn't someone have one of those "Please don't overfeed
the troll" signs?
[18:03] Paulyn : troll? what is troll?
[18:03] Paulyn : is it sporklike?
[18:03] ArcticFox : yes, its the Lesser Banishing of the KFC ritual
[18:03] MelancholySojourn : lol
[18:03] curious_one : stop talkin abt the stupid spork
[18:04] ArcticFox : there is nothing stupid about the spork!
[18:04] Paulyn : yes let us talk about the new troll sporklike
[18:04] Paulyn : i am finding hard to understand :(
[18:04] Paulyn : is it a troll that is like the big machines?
[18:04] MelancholySojourn : the spork is a lesser angel of the seventh
heaven...right next to cherabims:) j/k
[18:05] Father^Foosball : ROFL
[18:05] Paulyn : angel?
[18:05] Paulyn : as in god?
[18:05] Paulyn : you are saying a spork is an agent of the god?
[18:05] Paulyn : muhammed
[18:05] curious_one : a spork used to come from a chikin in here
[18:05] Father^Foosball : OK I have tears now lol
[18:05] MelancholySojourn : in one twisted reality..w.hy not?
[18:05] Father^Foosball : thought he was a prophet
[18:05] ArcticFox : all athames will be replaced by sporks
[18:05] MelancholySojourn : your prob right there..the prophet of chicken
[18:06] Amaris : lostprophet ?
[18:06] Paulyn : i am not to not understanding again
[18:06] Paulyn : perhaps i am spork
[18:06] Paulyn : i mean stupid.
[18:06] Paulyn : arg
[18:06] * Father^Foosball pulls out a piece of paper, a pencil and a clipboard
[18:06] Paulyn : i type badly now
[18:06] Cthulhu_ : What has a prophet to do with dead chicken?
[18:06] Paulyn : a spork or a troll?
[18:06] Cthulhu_ : Father^Foosball: Lay down the pencil! Paulyn might feel
threatened!
[18:06] Paulyn : i still am not to understand what a troll is?
[18:07] ArcticFox : Sanders rede, An it harm fowl, eat what thou wilt
[18:07] xCaede : lol
[18:07] MelancholySojourn : trolls are just priests... not prophets:)
[18:07] Paulyn : yes no more of the stabbing with the pencils
[18:07] Paulyn : please.
[18:07] Paulyn : trolls are like iman?
[18:07] Amaris : imac ?
[18:07] ArcticFox : Old_Foxx; you walked into it
[18:07] Paulyn : what is imac?
[18:07] Amaris : not know
[18:07] Frank_Blues : Trolls are stout fellows that tend to hang out under
bridges.
[18:07] Paulyn : homosexuals?
[Yeah, that was good...]
[18:07] Father^Foosball : ROFLMAO
[18:08] ArcticFox : haha
[18:08] Amaris : ah ah ghay
[18:08] Amaris : understand!
[18:08] Paulyn : what to be funny?
[18:08] Paulyn : only homosexual stand under bridge
[18:08] Paulyn : they wait for sex
[18:08] Paulyn : in my country
[18:08] Cthulhu_ : homosexuality is profanity!
[18:08] Paulyn : yes
[18:08] Frank_Blues : Er... okay.
[18:08] ArcticFox : Old_Foxx; sporks, chicken, muslims, pencils, trolls, and
apparently now homosexuality
[18:08] Paulyn : they will burn in hell with the... republicans, like george
bush yes?
[18:09] * Frank_Blues hides his pink triangle...
[18:09] Old_Foxx : How is Homosexuality Profanity!!!!!!!
[18:09] Amaris : triangle ?
[18:09] Basileus : lol
[18:09] Father^Foosball : OMG I can't stop laughing!
[18:09] Amaris : homosexual triangle ?
[18:09] Paulyn : yes
[18:09] Paulyn : another ritual, is there the spork?
[18:09] Amaris : ahh
[18:09] Amaris : i think not
[18:09] Cthulhu_ : George Bush is anti-christ
[18:09] ArcticFox : what would a homosexual spork look like?
[18:09] Paulyn : do the homosexuals or "trolls" use sporks in their ritual i
am not to understand the wicca
[18:10] Cthulhu_ : ArcticFox: acute
[18:10] Father^Foosball : please stop
[18:10] Father^Foosball : please
[18:10] Amaris : chicken. what use is chicken ? in wicca
[18:10] Cthulhu_ : Is wicca an alternative eating culture?
[18:10] Old_Foxx : Are you an idiot
[18:10] Father^Foosball : it feeds the HPS
[18:10] ArcticFox : wiccan chicken, has a good ring to it
[18:10] *** curious_one (Enter@fi-hs2715.zapsurf.com.sg) has joined #wicca
[18:10] Paulyn : idiot?
[18:11] curious_one : hey
[18:11] Paulyn : who me or spork
[18:11] Cthulhu_ : fool
[18:11] Paulyn : salam curious one
[18:11] Frank_Blues : Hey...
[18:11] Father^Foosball : you left curious_one?
[18:11] *** xCaede is now known as theGrandSpork
[18:11] Old_Foxx : or just a bigot
[18:11] Paulyn : i am a muslim
[Read into that what you will...]
[18:11] Amaris : Cthulhu you act like homosexual triangle
[18:11] Cthulhu_ : curious_one: You have to stay to get away from your bad
wiccan religion... Mohammed is true
[18:11] curious_one : ?????
[18:11] *** dale is now known as aura
[18:11] Frank_Blues : ROAR...
[18:11] Paulyn : praise allah
[18:12] Paulyn : not spork
[18:12] Paulyn : or troll
[18:12] Cthulhu_ : Amaris: I do, I do? But how can homosexual triangle be with
chickenspork in middle?
[18:12] Father^Foosball : All of who?
[18:12] Paulyn : or KFC what ever this is
[18:12] curious_one : u dun really practice nor believes in wicca
[18:12] Amaris : like...
[18:12] Old_Foxx : The flow of god/goddess respectivly gives one thier sexual
orentation it is not profanity!!!!!!!!
[18:12] curious_one : i never seen anyone at it
[18:12] Paulyn : yes
[18:12] Amaris : homosexual chickenspork triangle
[18:12] Paulyn : homosexual burn with republicans
[18:12] Paulyn : and sporks
[18:12] Frank_Blues : Poor Foxx I think is lagged...
[18:12] curious_one : oh no
[18:12] Amaris : yes
[18:12] Old_Foxx : no just type slow
[18:12] curious_one : not the sporks again
[18:13] *** theGrandSpork is now known as xCaede
[18:13] Cthulhu_ : What is spork? Is it thing with little devils hurt George
Bush in hell?
[18:13] Paulyn : i am not again to understand what you are saying
[18:13] Amaris : pls to understand. no ?
[18:13] Cthulhu_ : Speak simple English
[18:13] Paulyn : Cthulhu_ : is that spork?
[18:13] Paulyn : with devils
[18:14] Cthulhu_ : Or Arab
[18:14] Paulyn : hold spork and stab
[18:14] Father^Foosball : OK FOR EVERYONE TO SEE... FINAL DECREE FROM
HIGH UP... STOP WITH SPORKS, CHICKENS, HOMOSEXUALS, MOHAMMED,
REPUBLICANS AND KFC... GEORGE W CAN STAY THOUGH
[18:14] Frank_Blues : No, please, get rid of W...
[18:14] MelancholySojourn : lol
[18:14] Paulyn : george W kill many muslims
[18:14] Paulyn : he will die
[18:14] ArcticFox : oh well
[18:14] Old_Foxx : All cretures haf a flow of Male / Female energy sometimes
the female energy is more prominant in an man tthis results in
homsexuals (baisically)
[18:14] curious_one : giid try Father^Foosball
[18:14] Father^Foosball : Paulyn: only cause the muslims started the fight...
get it right
[That's a pretty ignorant thing to say actually... on reflection, in fact,
It's a very American thing to say, so wiccan or not, yank is still apparently
yank...]
[18:14] Paulyn : no the liking of how you say, mens bottoms results in the
homsexuals
[18:14] ArcticFox : Old_Foxx; um, i wouldn't take this too seriously if i
were you
[18:14] Paulyn : not god
[18:14] curious_one : giid try Father^Foosball
[18:14] MelancholySojourn : i think man in genral is bisexual(shrug)
[18:15] Amaris : Who this george w ? you speak
[18:15] *** Father^Foosball sets mode: +b *!*@ikcs.net.run.openbsd.because.
windows-sucks.com
[18:15] Old_Foxx : No i dont like George (warmonger) Bush
[18:15] *** You were kicked by Father^Foosball (OK now your gone for a while)
Session Close: Fri Dec 06 18:15:16 2002
[This log was OBVIOUSLY edited to include only the funny stuff.]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Resolution
==========
A window that never blurs-
The rain and snow comforting it-(Incognito.)
A greater sense of rejection-
Moths passing-
By her eyes-
Everything unmending from her life-
Written are her words-
Ink staining all but her breath-
There are series of regrets puncturing what thought to be lying dormat-
Perhaps fears for what if decisions are in haste-
And does the fear of fear make it true?
Or the constant hunger in wanting truth overall- that she is forcing herself to believe?
Marie
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[][][][] [][][][][] [][][][]
[][][][][][] [][][][][] [][][][]
[][] [][] [][][] [][][] [][]
[][][] [][][] [][][] [][]
[][][] [][][] [][][] [][]
[][][] [][][] [][][] [][]
[][] [][][] [][][] [][][] [][] [][]
[][][][][][] [][][][][] [][][][][][]
[][][][] [][][][][] [][][][][][]
THE FIRE STILL BURNS.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Clips & Crap:
=============
Unintelligent Design:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From: Xaonon (xaonon@hotpop.com)
Subject: Re: radiation can CAUSE mutation
Newsgroups: talk.origins, alt.religion.christian.roman-catholic
Date: 2002-07-13 23:41:16 PST
In article <200207140417.g6E4HTQY049484@cryptofortress.com>,
Cornholio wrote:
> the fact is that the theory of intelligent design (creationism) has JUST AS
> MUCH scientific rigor as Darwin's theory when all facts are considered.
If by "fact" you mean "lie", then yes!
Now piss off.
Helpful Hints Part 1:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From: pippa
Subject: Re: Helpful Hints for Bumbling Idiots
Posted on: 7:58 pm on July 1, 2002
Want to be a political activist?
Why not try inflating your views and boring your friends to death? - it will
make you feel important, and you wont actually have to bother doing anything
- please take note that acting this way may cause other people to call you a
twat behind your back*
Sick and tired of feeling small?.......
why not drink out of really tiny cups and glasses to make you feel like you're
massive?
IMPRESS YOUR FRIENDS BY CELLOTAPING YOUR EYES SHUT.
Posting on your own forum while pissed:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From: Billy Bragg
Subject: Re: New album is very disappointing
Posted on: 12:36 am on June 29, 2002
Simon, had to laugh when I read this
Quote from Simon at 5:12 pm on June 28, 2002:
> Let me start off by saying that you really are a top man for taking the time
> to answer my stupid questions. I know why I'm busy posting on this site;
> because I'm totally bored at work. But quite why you would spend your time
> here, I haven't worked out. Respect to you for doing this.
You should know that Bill never visits the website. Toby employs me to post
here in my lunch hour (I am in Dunedin, NZ). I manage it most days and he pays
me per post. We met at college and since I have a degree in politics, all he
needed to do was send me a copy of 'Still Suitable For Miners' for reference
purposes and I was pretty much set up. I sometimes get the urge to go veering
off message but Bill seems like a nice enough guy from what I've read and
frankly I can do with the cash. Maybe I'll come to Tolpuddle one day and we can
laugh about this.
"billyb"
It's A Miricle!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After his cat got stuck in a tree a minister in south africa mounted a rescue
operation. He climbed a ladder as far as he could and tied one end of a rope
around the narrow trunk, and the other end to his car bumper. As he drove
forwards, bending the tree towards the ground the inevitable happened. The
rope broke and the tree catapulted the moggy into space. A couple of weeks
later the minister was in the supermarket when he saw one of his church
members buying cat food. 'I didn't know you had a cat,' he said. 'Minister,
it's quite a miracle really, but two weeks ago I was having a picnic on the
lawn with my daughter. 'Mummy, I'd love to have a cat,' she said. I said to
her, 'You'll have to ask Jesus for one.' At that very moment this cat came
flying through the air, landed on the lawn, and he stayed with us ever since.'
- Parish Newspaper
Did God Create Intelligence?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From: SOGGYNETNUT (soggynetnut@cs.com)
Subject: Re: Why are creationists deemed ignorant?
Newsgroups: talk.origins
Date: 2002-07-06 21:05:05 PST
I have heard the wackiest things out of the mouths of creationists:
"Pteradons are still alive in Africa and they have glow in the dark velvety
body hair."
I almost bit through my lips trying not to laugh at the glowing velvet fur
remark ! This was told to me by a creationist that had his own radio show for
12 years in Florida !
"Fire breathing dinosaurs are still alive , they combust the same way
Bombardier beetles do . They live in Africa as well They are the origin of
Dragon myths"
..This was told to me by a creationist who runs a TV cable Co. in Kentucky.
"Dinosaurs are still alive in Africa , they are so territorial they scare all
other larger mammals away . This explains why there are no large mammals found
in the fossil record Dinosaur strata , they where somewhere else we just
haven't found them yet."
Theists are good in bed!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From: Bobby D. Bryant (bdbryant@mail.utexas.edu)
Subject: Re: Why are creationists deemed ignorant?
Newsgroups: talk.origins
Date: 2002-07-07 04:10:07 PST
On Sat, 06 Jul 2002 23:28:34 -0600, Cornholio wrote:
> most people on earth profess to believe in a God of some sort
Most people think they're good in bed, too, but there doesn't appear
to be much correlation between that belief and reality.
Helpful Hints Part 2:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From: nevski
Subject: Re: Helpful Hints for Bumbling Idiots
Posted on: 12:15 am on July 6, 2002
take all the back breaking hard work out of tending to your garden by moving
to the 14th floor of a block of flats in Deptford, south London.
PaRiS buys Kieren some 'chixor'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(18:57) (.Kieren): im going to change my room about
(18:57) (.Kieren): and put my two beds together
(18:58) (.Kieren): to make a double
(18:58) (.Kieren): but i dont know where to put it
(18:58) (|PaRiS|): why you bringing chixor back for hot sexor?
(18:58) (|PaRiS|): ;P
(18:58) (.Kieren): i wish :(
(18:58) (|PaRiS|): why not?
(18:58) (|PaRiS|): if you find this song im looking for
(18:59) (|PaRiS|): i'll buy u one
What to do with a supercomputer
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(20:06) (@Prodigal|Son): my school has the 7th most powerful supercomputer in the country
(20:07) (@claustro): And what do they do with it?
(20:07) (@Prodigal|Son): i have no idea
(20:07) (@claustro): pr0n
Unintelligent Design (Part 2)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From: raven1 (psychedelephant@flashmail.com)
Subject: Re: Athiests KNOW God exists
Newsgroups: talk.origins, alt.atheism
Date: 2002-07-26 18:03:22 PST
On Fri, 26 Jul 2002 19:50:23 -0500 (CDT), Average Joe
<averagejoe@nym.cryptofortress.com> wrote:
>athiests know that God exists,
Sure they do. Atheists, on the other hand, dismiss the idea as silly.
Obesity Cited In Fast Food Suit
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Friday July 26, 2002 5:10 PM
NEW YORK (AP) - A man sued four leading fast food chains, claiming he became
obese and suffered from other serious health problems from eating their fatty
cuisine.
Caesar Barber, 56, filed a lawsuit Wednesday in Bronx Supreme Court, naming
McDonald's, Wendy's, Burger King and Kentucky Fried Chicken.
``They said `100 percent beef.' I thought that meant it was good for you,''
Barber told Newsday. ``I thought the food was OK.''
``Those people in the advertisements don't really tell you what's in the
food,'' he said. ``It's all fat, fat and more fat. Now I'm obese.''
Barber, a 5-foot-10 maintenance worker who weighs 272 pounds, had heart attacks
in 1996 and 1999 and has diabetes, high blood pressure and high cholesterol. He
said he ate fast food for decades, believing it was good for him until his
doctor cautioned him otherwise.
``The fast food industry has wrecked my life,'' Barber told the New York Post.
What a Banker!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After being charged �20 for a �10 overdraft, 30 year old Michael Howard of
Leeds changed his name by depol to 'Yorkshire Bank PLC Are Fascist Bastards'.
The bank has since asked him to close his account and Mr Bastard have demanded
they pay back the 69p balance in his account by cheque made out to his new
name.
- The Guardian Newspaper
The creationist who tried to buy some milk
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From: Richard Baxter (rbaxter@uchicago.edu)
Subject: The creationist who tried to buy some milk
Newsgroups: talk.origins
Date: 2002-08-01 10:14:17 PST
Dear All,
Here's a little story I thought of while reading about radiometric
dating:
There once was a creationist who wanted to buy some milk, so he went
to a local grocery store. When he got there he saw the price for milk,
$4.54 per Ga
"My goodness," cried the creationist, "Milk is certainly more
expensive than I ever thought it would be," and on this point a great
many would agree.
Unwilling to accept this price of milk, the creationist went to
another grocery store. Here he saw a different price for milk,
$4.12 per Ga
"Ha" cried the creationist, "The price of milk is clearly a very
uncertain quantity! Why look here, the label on this milk is different
from that in the previous store, and the used by date on this milk is
different from the previous store, and this milk is in a glass
container while the milk in the previous store was in a plastic
container. There are so many differences between these two gallons of
milk, that I wonder anyone believes the price at all!" On this point,
some may agree, but others may wonder.
The creationist (being an unusually adventurous sort) travelled to a
third store, and what he saw there was truly astonishing.
$4.54 per Ga TWO FOR THE PRICE OF ONE!!!
"Eureka!" cried the creationist, and running back to the first store
he assailed the shopkeeper."I have just seen milk in another store
that is half the price of your. Hence there is a %100 error in the
price of your milk. Therefore it must be free!" And he grabbed a gallon
of milk and walked out of the store. On this point unfortunately,
neither the shopkeeper or the police agreed.
regards,
RB
keydet saves the day...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(01:13) (keyDet): hey hey
(01:13) (keyDet): ive saved the world today
(01:13) (keyDet): bed time
(01:13) ��� Signoff: keyDet (dork@cp132919-a.venlo1.lb.nl.home.com) #moo
(01:14) (Kieren): hahaha
Combat 18
~~~~~~~~~
Steinsky
IP: 62.64.238.35
posted 4 August 2002 04:54 BST
> quote from YORKSHIRE 88:
> They called themselves Combat 18 after our leader Adolf Hitler.
Huh? Shuurly shome mishtake? if they're named after Adolf Hitler, surely it
would make more sense for them to be called "Adolf" and/or "Hitler" ?
(After 3 pages of playing with him we got bored of Yorkshire 88 and so he
proceeded to post the same "White Pride World Wide" poster over and over again
on the guestbook, followed by japaneese shit fetish porn, and a decapitated
man. Presumably to make some kind of point? The next morning Yorkie had his
Telewest cable internet and tv taken away from him.)
Dancer Cows
~~~~~~~~~~~
From the Guardian 'Online' supliment's 'TXT MSG Poetry' competition:
along a high hedged meander
Friesian hoofers pirouette out
conga ahead
& soft-shoe-suffle home
farmer quicksteps the gate
shut
we trip on
Helpful Hints Part 3:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From: aquaman
Subject: Re: Helpful Hints for Bumbling Idiots
Posted on: 6:29 am on July 7, 2002
Save money on expensive binoculars by simply standing nearer to the object that
you wish to view.
Fed up of rising electricity bills?
At night simply tie a piece of string from your lavatory seat to your bedpost.
By standing astride it for nocturnal visits you can safely find your way there
and back without having to switch the lights on.
worried about small children choking on ice-cubes?
simply keep a jug of boiling water to hand - this can be poured down the
throat, instantly removing the blockage.
Always store two eggs in your kettle, that way every time you make a hot drink
you have an instant snack available!
Nearly Famous!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Brian
Subject: Re: Nearly famous friends we have known...
Posted on: 12:41 am on Sep. 8, 2002
In my first job I worked with the Ronseal bloke who says "it does what it says
on the tin"
The "Homosexual Lobby"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From: J. Northwood (jonathan@northwood.uce_is_icky.org)
Subject: Re: The gay agenda
Newsgroups: alt.religion.christian.roman-catholic, alt.atheism
>Everyone of the items listed above are actively being pushed by the
>homosexual lobby.
Proof?
And where is this "homosexual lobby", anyway?
More to the point, how's it decorated?
EFnet Breaks the 100,000 users record
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Surprised? (Score:2)
by gad_zuki! (user245@hotmail.com) on Sunday September 22, @04:21PM
I felt a disturbance in the net, like 100,000 voices all screamed, "DID U S33
FIREFLY?!?!" at once.
(slashdot decided to report this as IRC history, just before 100,000 people
pointed out to them that IRCnet, DALnet, Undernet and Quakenet all reached
100,000 users earlier this year or last year.)
How To Take A Bath
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From: Richard Clayton (richzigard.claytonzig@verizon.net)
Subject: Re: Give it up evolutionists
Newsgroups: talk.origins
Date: 2002-10-25 13:18:55 PST
Dunno wrote:
>
> On Fri, 25 Oct 2002, Jared Brown wrote:
>>
>>You've already lost. You're theory has already been debunked to death.
>>Maybe it's time you made another theory so us creationists can debunk
>>that as well.
>
> I would like to see the theory of Taking a Bath debunked.
its simple, taking a bath is f(taking, bath)
but when "taken," the bath is STILL IN THE SAME PLACE. so f(taking,
bath) = f(0,bath) THEREFORE TAKING >= 0 which is clearly impossible
therefore the theory of taking a bath is falsified
How To Take A Bath (Part 2)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From: Robert Carroll (rcarroll@spamscrambestweb.net)
Subject: Re: Give it up evolutionists
Newsgroups: talk.origins
Date: 2002-10-25 18:13:57 PST
> > I would like to see the theory of Taking a Bath debunked.
>
> Well, before you can take a bath you have to take *half* a bath,
> and before you can take half a bath you have to take 1/4 a bath,
> and before you can take 1/4 a bath...
Zeno's paradox? No wonder Archimedes jumped out of his tub and ran down the
street screaming, "Ureeka," or, "all my neighbors really need a bath."
How To Store CDs
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From: E Jim Stevens24
Subject: Re: CD Storage
Posted on: 7:30 pm on Nov. 20, 2002
in order to save space, i removed all of my cds from their respective cases,
and threw the cases/liner notes away. i then stacked all of the disks,
randomly, on top of each other, creating one large tower. in order to prevent
the cds from slipping, and hence causing the tower to tip, i have placed sheets
of coarse grit (40) sand paper between each disk.
the same goes for my vinyl collection.
i find this system works quite well.
An Apology
~~~~~~~~~~
Yesterday The Guardian published an article by the TUC in which they stated
that the directors of Jarvis PLC last year received an 84% bonus, taking their
wages up to �310,000pa. A spokesman for Jarvis have since contacted The
Guardian to tell us that in fact the directors of Jarvis have received only
a 42% increase over 2 years, and they are earning only �286,000pa. The TUC
have responded with an apology for underestimating the director's financial
hardship.
- The Guardian Newspaper and the Trade Unions Council
New Years Eve
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
<Fish> I'm a lady slayer.
<|PaRiS|> Who says?
<Fish> He does.
<llama> Yeah, he slays them with his pork sword.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Shit of the Issue
:::::::::::::::::
COOL SHIT
=========
+5 Foreseen return of the Discordant Opposition Journal.
+4 The rise of THE MOO WORLD ORDER.
+3 Lula Da Silva winning in Brazil... That was ok.
+2 Mrs Blair's little sob to the press. Any Oscars going spare?
Highly amusing dramatic performance.
+1 Charles Kennedy (leader of the Lib Dem political party) presenting
the UK satire show "Have I Got News For You". Great stuff, I'm sure
it all went down *very* well with his mates at Westminster.
NORMALITY
=========
=0 British Winter Time.
JUST SHIT
=========
-1 Some bastard bought www.fwaggle.net after we lost control of it.
-2 The multitude to Reality TV "Talent" (using the world loosely)
Contests around at the moment.
-3 Continued Imperialistic US foreign policy that will be the death
of us all you mark our words.
-4 AOL UK (Bribing your customers to use you does not make you the
worlds greatest ISP, and contrary to your advertising, you are not
the only website on the planet WITH A FUCKING SEARCH ENGINE!)
-5 The US destroying Venezuala's democratic socialist government, and
then getting the media to blame the workers for all the problems.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SOL Members
:::::::::::
cronus His True Addiction 2000
|PaRiS| Your Fucking Right I Did It 1992
JerichoZZ Can We Finish This Naked? 1998
Steinsky Take Down The Union Jack 2001
Chickensoup Where? 1999
Iain Animal Farm 2002
Laura Smokey Smokey 2001
Angel Mmmmmmm Solero 2001
RedNight Rookie for Nookie 2002
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Projects
::::::::::::
www.whitedust.net/newsol - The Site
www.retrogeekretard.org - RGR (Daily Home Of Geek)
www.retrogeekretard.org/doj/ - Home of the Discordant Opposition Journal
www.cotch.net - Homage To IRC Logging
www.meekrosoft.com - Welcome to Iain's Twisted World
www.berk.tk - Why Not?
www.retrogeekretard.org - girlz.php
www.uk-dragon.com - Yyon.
www.mooircd.org - Moo World Order of IRC.
#moo - irc.mooircd.org
#luckstruck - irc.mooircd.org
#doj - irc.dal.net
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Greetz: The Syndicate of London would like to greet: irc.mooircd.org
(www.mooircd.org), whitedust.net, RGR, the discordant opposition journal
(www.retrogeekretard.org/doj/) fwaggle, www.textscene.com,
GhaleonX, all the #moo regulars, All ex-SOL members (you are not
forgotten), Sanction, The Pompey Pirates, The Medway Boyz, all retro
pirate kru's from back in the day, Miracle, Zaphod & #atari DALnet,
Afroman (www.afrotechmods.com) everyone else we know and everyone we may
have forgotten.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> CHECK OUT THE SOLJO, THE DOJ & OTHER GREAT ZINE'S AT WWW.TEXTSCENE.COM <
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
<Aegwyn> Apparently I just got spammed by a self-aware porn-bot. It informed
that "YES THIS IS AN AD!" before going on its spiel.