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                                .oO[Issue #8]Oo.


.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oO


Contents
~~~~~~~~

[1] Kodez? Kodez for me?           
[2] The History Of Phreaking by RedBoxChiliPepper/PLA
[3] Gothic Horror! Funky Beats!

File List
~~~~~~~~~

acfind  .irc             Area Code Finder IRC Script
enochian.dic             Enochian Password Dictionary
delphoto.gif             Acidflux, Hamburglar & Deadlocke
desperdo.tar             Desperado Cracker

E-Mail Address - delirium@cyberspace.org
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   -+Dist Sites+-
BBS  Terminal Drift                                       (510)743-0603
BBS  Whombat Communications                               (512)883-7543
BBS  Independent Nation                                   (315)656-4179
BBS  The Land Of Rape And Honey                           (408)883-9535
BBS  Underworld 1995                                      (514)683-1894
FTP  EnCee's Text Archive                             ftp.biohazard.com
WWW  Delirium Webpage                http://www.compumedia.com/~jnoonan

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You've hacked into a foreign system, root starts paging you, you jump
into chat, he starts talking in a foreign language you don't understand and
you've got nothing witty to say! What do you do? Well just for those situations
we've compiled a list of international translations for the phrase "I call
from Sweden you have kodez for me?".  

English:     I call from Sweden you have kodez for me?
German:      Ich rufe von Schweden an; Haben Sie die code fuer mich?
Slovenian:   Klicem iz Sweden, imas kode zame?
Finnish:     Soitan ruotsista, olisiko sinulla koodeja minulle?
French:      je telphone de la Suede, avez-vous des je sais pas codes pour moi?
Italian:     Chiamo dalla Svezia avete carte telefoniche per me???
Hebrew:      Ani Mitkasher Msweden, Yesh Lach kodim Beshvily?
Spanish:     Llamo de Suecia, tienes algunas claves para mi?
Swedish:     jag ringer fran Sverige - du hade koder till mig?
Mockswedish: I cell frum Svedee yuoo hefe-a kudez fur me-a? Bork Bork Bork!

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Every real phreaker in the scene knows his history so here's a brief summary of
how it all began and how it's progressed through the years... In the begining,
there was one phreak who started it all. His name was Bob and every phreak in
the world could eventually trace their origins to Bob. Bob, born in Tribune,
Kansas, was a homeless man who was rummaging through a dumpster by the phone
company building looking for the night's supper and some alluminum cans (Bob
was an earth-conscience wino) when he came across a large blue manual labeled
"Southwestern Bell's Blue Manual of Phone Company Tones E911 That Ordinary
Citizens Should Never Never Never Ever Never Have Access To!" Gee, thought Bob,
I could use this very large manual tonight to cover myself up with while I
sleep on the park bench. 
  That night, while having a little trouble sleeping (Bob had a bad case of
insomnia), Bob began to read this manual and began to think about all he'd 
found and the next morning, sitting on the City Hall's steps used a Campbell's
soup can, some string and various other electronic parts and assembled the 
world's first "Blue Box." With it, Bob was able to call anywhere on the block
by using his blue box to mimick the phone company's own tones. Later that 
winter he met a man named John Draper who was in town for an anti-smoking
conference who discovered that with a simple modification, Bob's blue box 
could call any-where in the world.
  A year later, in 1978, a lot had happened to John Draper. One morning he was
looking around in the kitchen for his Frosted Flakes and was pissed when he 
found out that his room mate had eaten them all so he had to settle for Froot
Loops instead. He ate four bowls so he could finally get to the bottom of the
box to get the toy surprise, which was a plastic dildo for kids! After playing
with the dildo for several hours, he found that when he blew into the end of 
it, he would hear a sound very close to 26,000,000 Htz, the same tone that his
blue box made to control the phone company! John immediately adopted the handle
Capt'n Crunch to throw the feds off and set out to Kroger's to buy out their
entire suppy of Froot Loops.
  Eventually, word spread about the blue boxes and many other boxes began to
be built by "phone phreaks", each one serving a different form of phone fraud.
One of the more well known phreaks was a man named Joe Engressia, a deaf man
who lived in Tennessee. He was eventually able to cause the pay phones in his
college to give out free calls to the other students by whistling country songs
into the phones. He found that when he whistled anything by Wayne Newton he
could get a free call but since he was deaf, he had to get a friend to talk on
the phone to whoever he reached for him. Joe was finally busted in the early
eighties and sentenced to death in the state of Florida.
  In 1983 the controversial movie, War Games came out and gave birth to a new
generation of computer hackers and phone phreaks. Starring Tom Cruise as a 
teen-age hacker, this movie told the story of a kid who came close to starting
Operation Dessert Storm when he used his computer to call up the library and
erase his outstanding overdue book late fees. 
  In 1986, Erik Bloodaxe and Gail Thatckery started a publication called 
Phrack, which was run out of Erik's garage on his Timex Sinclair 1000 computer. Phrack
continued to be the nation's leading hacker magazine until an investigator for
Pacific Bell ate beans for supper and bought a 14.4 Hayes Accura modem and
Phrack was shut down until the controversial E*32 article was found to have
actually been written by Steve Jackson who ran a super-underground bbs called
P-80 Systems.
  Today the scene is still alive and kicking. Hacker Kevin Mitnick was located
and arrested for writing anarchy files detailing how to crash airplanes into
the White House and how to make Drain-o bombs and Wal-Mart continues to give
full money-back refunds to people who give them modem casings full of crushed
Pepsi cans. No one has heard from Bob for over twenty years now.

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written by Eric Oehler
http://dax.cs.wisc.edu/~wonko
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

A tale of gothic horror!
A tale of funky beats!

                      Ned Kirby's
                     FRANKENSTEIN


The ship plowed onward into the night.  Icy winds beat at the faces of 
the haggard crew.  
        "The crew speaks of mutiny, sir!" exclaimed the first mate. "They 
think we'll never find a passage to Minneapolis, that this is a fool's 
mission."
        "No! We must continue!" I cried.  "The best clubs in the Midwest 
lie there!  We must continue!"
        At that moment a strange, shrill noise rang through the biting 
air.  Cries of "demon!" and "monster" rang from the crew.  I reassured 
them, that it was merely a Daniel Ash guitar solo.  But the fears 
remained, for we knew not where such a sound was coming from.  Then, a 
lone figure was seen on the horizon, limping dazedly accross the frozen 
ice fields.  I could not believe my eyes!  A man, here, in the wastelands 
of ice!  We approached him and brought the exhausted person aboard.  The 
man was short, wrapped in a tattered supa-phat(tm) black tshirt, baggy 
purple pants, a floppy-brimmed hat and a trenchcoat that was even larger 
than his shirt.  His strange adornments meant one thing to me: I knew 
that this man was the famous Ned, DJ of great repute.
        "Why do we find you on the frozen wastes?" I asked excitedly.  
Perhaps this was clue in my quest for an oversea route to the Cities!
        "Who the fuck are you and why do you want to know?"  This 
response did not offend me, I had expected nothing less from the famous Ned.
        "I am a sea captain, searching for a route to the Cities!  I want 
mankind to remember my name forever!" I replied.
        "I'll tell you about fame, man.  It sucks!  I tried to make 
myself famous..well...more famous, anyway, and it my whole plan 
completely crashed.  That's why I'm here.  I must destroy my creation."

He began to tell his dreadful tale...

        "I was a DJ, like my friends and some of their friends before 
them.  But I wanted more.  I wanted to be the DJ to end all DJs.  Or 
better: I wanted to be the creator of the DJ to end all DJs.  I had spent 
my childhood studying the arcane; Albertus Magnus, Dennis Ritchie, 
Pythagoras, Karl Bartos.  My knowledge was unsurpassed in many areas.  I 
wanted to use my knowledge to better mankind, or at least better the DJ 
industry.
        "I worked for weeks, driving myself to exhaustion, robbing 
graves, building components, sewing parts, dyeing hair, matching beats.  
I was building the perfect industrial/gothic DJ.  Some of my more 
gothic groupies thought the body parts strewn around my apartment were 
hopelessly cool.  God, they were all such posers.  But despite their 
adoration I worked, and one night it all came together.
        "'It's alive!  It's alive! And it's funky!' I cried.  The beast 
had risen from its dais and immediately walked to my 1200s.  Within 
seconds it was beatmatching.  And I'm not talking 'Welcome to Paradise' 
mixing into anything...I mean Das Ich into FLA and other really weird 
matches.  But a feeling of fear overtook me.  This bastard would put me 
out of a job, and I'd be stuck working at Perkins in Madison again.  
Shit.  I cast it out into the snow, hoping never to see it again, hoping 
it would just go and fucking rot someplace.  It looked at me with pure 
hatred before it vanished, and spoke.  'I will be with you on gothic night.'
        "Ok, so that was a little freaky.  But I really never figured I'd 
see it again.  Sure it could spin, but it was the butt-ugliest thing I'd 
ever seen.  It'd never get a job.  I mean, hey, it was uglier than Ogre 
and as lumpy as every member of Pigface in a burlap bag.  Fuck.  It 
couldn't get a job if it needed one. "
        "So, Saturday night rolls around, and I'm spinning all my 
favorites.  Throw some Foetus in for novelty, a little Fields of the 
Nephilim for robustness, the required Sisters songs to keep the goths 
from leaving. All of a sudden this bastard breaks into my booth, takes 
over my 1200s and starts spinning some fucking polka.  People run 
screaming from the dance floor.  Total chaos.  I try to grapple and get 
my turntables back, but he's too damn big and manages, while fighting me, 
to mix into an Erasure song.  Goths are going into convulsions.  Complete 
utter nightmare.  Bwah!  I swear I'm going to lose my job for that.  
        "The place is completely empty, and I ask him what the fuck he 
thinks he's doing. 'I have come for my vengeance.  You have forsaken 
me.  I am a DJ!' he says.  
        "'I've played Download in a club, man!' I yell back.
        "'Oh shut up.' he retorted.  He paused. 'My vengeance is 
complete.  I'm outta here."
        "Ever since then I have hunted this beast, for no other reason 
that I think he took my limited Front242 'Animals' Promo 12"."

        He glanced at his watch. "Shit.  I'm late for my shift at
Perkins."  He jumped ship and ran off into the night.
        I looked down at my crew. "Minneapolis is too weird.  Let's go
home."   We turned our ship around, and sailed for home.


.oO[ End Of Transmission ]Oo.