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January 1993
----------------------------------------------------------------------
The Print-Almost-Everything Fanzine
for Public Access Remote Bulletin Board Systems of Australia
----------------------------------------------------------------------
FOUNDERS................................... Doc
Avalon
CHIEF EDITOR............................... Inka Princess
PROOF READERS.............................. Ghost Who Walks
Lachlan Maher
Joseph Elkhorne
FORMATTER.................................. Doc
ARTWORK.................................... Elkor Cornelius
Captain Kirk
(although he doesn't know)
Nikolai Kingsley
THIS ISSUE'S CONTRIBUTORS.................. Inka Princess
Dave Seikel
Bungalow Hermit
Tikva
Doc
Nikolai Kingsley
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
CONTENTS
1. Stir Trek 4
2. A Dictionary For The Novice Bulletin Board User
3. Horror-scopes
4. MacChucks!
5. Understanding Computer Technology
6. How To Be Green
7. Santa Exposed!
8. Awardz
9. Rattitorial.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
New Wave liked his job as a ticket collector, bouncer, and all-purpose
law enforcer for the Cawfeeld Nightspot* on Space-Port Alfalpha. He
especially liked beating up people who tried to enter with sneakers on.
* Readers are informed that no correlation was intended whatsoever with
the Caulfield Nightspot near the Caulfield Hotel on the planet Earth,
which incidentally also has a rather large, brutish bouncer who likes
beating up anything wearing sneakers.
A figure was approaching; making its way down the steamy, grime-
ridden staircase from the busy street above. New Wave picked up his
handy bludgeon, and stood across the doorway in his usual style.
The footsteps stopped. In front of New Wave stood a tall dark-haired
girl, wearing a bright red space-suit decorated with teddy-bears.
In addition, a rather large, nasty phasor was slung around her hips.
"Yer nit dinkin' of goin' in dere, arr ya girlie?", hissed New Wave,
sensing it was one of those lovely occasions when he would have to get
violent again.
After all, she was wearing regulation Star Fleet sneakers.
Without a moments hesitation, the dark-haired girl whipped out her
phasor, and shot a bolt into the startled New Wave. He crumpled down
and forward, groaning.
For a moment, the world paused in shock.
"You're lucky it was on stun." she informed the writhing figure on the
ground.
Replacing the phasor into the holster, Star Fleet Commander Brigitte
entered the rowdy* night-club.
* See - I told you there was no correlation.
____________________________
Ding
Ping
Dong
Space.
The Final Frontier.
These are the voyages of the U.S.S.Egoprise,
Her unceasing mission: to boldly go where no man (or woman, or Erk) has
gone before; to hassle all high profile bulletin board users; to rip-
off every sci-fi television series since 1960; and to seek new depths
in amateur, D-grade humour.
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The Search For Brigitte (and other minor sub-plots)
by Inka Princess and Doc
. .. . .
.
___ ________________________________.
___________.+===-+.____________ # O\\]] ] ] ] ] ] ] D#########/
\_..._____ ..... _____.. || `~~~~##========== ~~~~~~~====
~`~~|_|~~~|#.....\. / |==
. \ .. .\. / _ / ' ..
.. \ ____\. / //
.. |: -----\__|_./_________
. /.~......o ........./\ .
):: .. ... . ./__' . .
`\\. oooo ___'
~_____----""~
.
.. . .
starring various bulletin board users in cameo roles
As you may recall from our last episode, Doctor McCoy (Doc)
successfully escaped from Lachy's Prison Planet. However, his plans to
regain World Dominance were short lived - the shuttle he was escaping
in was raided by the three teenage space pirates. Yes, the infamous
Super Boy, Handyman and Mr. Jordan.
The space pirates had concocted an evil plan - to extract the knowledge
of Ultimate Dominance from the brain of Doc, and thus obtain the
ultimate power for themselves. Not surprisingly, this failed dismally.
Mr Jordan, fearing the other two pirates were plotting against her,
took them hostage and proceeded to the planet Earth.
Meanwhile, the crew of the U.S.S.Egoprise were alerted to the news of
the escaping Doctor McCoy. Doc's deserted shuttle was found. While
searching the abandoned craft, Nurse Chapel located a vital clue: a
fragment from Mr. Jordan's leg plaster. Soon Kirk and the gang were
hot on the trail of the pirates.
Back on Earth, Doc was able to locate the religiously insignificant
lost Temple Of Doccism. Inside, the sacred Tablets of Elkor were
uncovered, which held the secret of Ultimate Dominance. But before
Doc could interpret them, Captain Kirk and the Stir Trek gang arrived
on the scene, revealing themselves to be Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
in disguise. The three pirates escaped, pursued by the Turtles. Doc was
finally left alone, to clean up the rubble of his ruined temple and
crumbling religion.
Meanwhile, Star Fleet Commander Brigitte had set off on her own
mission: to find a man who believed in true love - and had a body to
match. Poor Matty was left with a shuttle he could not control, and
crashed on The Prison Planet, where he met up with Lachy the
Psychedelic Prison Guard.
And so our story continues...
____________________________
Of all the places Pennywise had to deliver pizzas to, this floating
sewer tanker was the worst. It was slow. The air locks were primitive.
It stank of stale pizza.
Standing in front of a steaming grate, which Pennywise could only
assume was the entrance into the cabin, he dreamed of the cute chef
back on Planet Dial-A-Dino.
"Who ordered the double peanut butter and coleslaw pizza!", he yelled,
impatiently.
Still no buyers. Pausing, Pennywise peered into the grate and saw...
____________________________
Splinter (Ghost Who Walks) wavered on his cushion, and sniffed the
smoldering incense about him. In front sat four Ninja Turtles, paying
as much undivided attention as Ninja Turtles ever could.
First there is Raphael Sulu (General Discomfort/Yuen Ho), the Star
Fleet programmer extraordinaire, whose Ninja skills can beat any
QuickBasic programmer.
Then there is Donatella Inka (Inka Princess/Sandy Turner), once the
always smiling, efficient and loyal nurse to Doctor McCoy, now a lean
green fighting heroine.
Next to Donatella sits Leonardo Spock (Zodiac Mindwarp/Gordon Walker),
whose own vulcanism is now quite difficult to recognize. Especially
since turtles have holes for ears. At least he was still green.
And finally there is Michaelangelo Kirk (Laserbrain/Rob Judd), who gave
up a promising career in Star Fleet to lead the Turtles.
Splinter surveyed his students for effect. "Still, you must fight on ."
he told them. "For evil still remains in this world."
Young Leonardo Spock questioned the old rat. "But Sansei Master, our
lives would become meaningless if the world was all good and evil had
been eradicated."
Splinter reflected.
"Shadup!" hissed Splinter, "Don't question the teachings of Ninjahpoo!"
"Now, gather round turtles... and let us meditate together."
Splinter began some rather nauseating nasal sounds.
"Hanky ? " offered Nurse Donatella Inka.
Splinter thanked Donatella, cleared his nose, and started again.
"Let us unite our Turtle Power, so we may obtain the knowledge we seek:
the location of the evil Space Pirates and that dreaded Doc McCoy..."
Nurse Donatella Inka, Leonardo Spock, Raphael Sulu, and Michaelangelo
Kirk held hands like children and hummed together.
The transcendental moment lasted less than a second. Raphael Sulu's
nose caught a whiff of that double peanut butter and coleslaw pizza,
and he shot like a magnet to the grate above.
"PIZZA ! " the four turtles cried.
"EEEEEK !" cried Pennywise, as he sped out of the sewer tanker air-lock
and careered into his Dino-Scooter.
"What was THAT !" exclaimed Michaelangelo Kirk.
"It's the space pirates ! It's the space pirates !" shrieked Raphael
Sulu, eager for another fight.
"Sick'em !" added Splinter, and the four Stir Trek Turtles raced out
after the fleeing Dial-A-Dino delivery person.
____________________________
.. .
. . .. .
. . ____
.. . /###/
/#__#|
. /# / #| ..
. . /# ./--|
. /# / #|
_____________________________________./#.------o__/\ .
_._/_) |______|________|_______|_______| ( |..\\\
__/ |-------------------------------| "--------"" [
. _-o|--| o .. == = _ == DeLorean mkII |__|_ #oo|[
[ oo | |__|___________________________| ... __""|[
~~~~-+----------------(___(___(___(___(___(___(__|~~~~~~~~---' . .
. .. .
. .
. . .
____________________________
Meanwhile, the now familiar rust-pitted DeLorean was speeding through
the void of space.
"Lets stop for some MacGalacticDonalds!", suggested Mr Jordan.
"Hey what a dooooody idea!", added Handyman, as he popped open his
seventh Coke for the day.
Superboy responded by slamming the DeLorean into reverse, and left a
delightful set of space-tracks in the direction of SpacePort Alfalpha.
____________________________
Matty and Lachy were nearly thrown out of their seats as their Star
Fleet vessel rocketed and lurched all over the place.
"Warp Factor seven!" cried Matty, staring in disbelief at his laser-
beam speed camera. The space-dust from the path of the speeding
DeLorean began to break up as the thunder subsided.
"Huh ?" questioned Lachy, who was still trying to come to grips with
the control panel of the Star Fleet vessel.
"That DeLorean was doing Warp Factor seven! That's illegal! The speed
limit here is no more than Warp Factor three."
"Do we chase 'em ?" asked Lachy.
"Nah." replied Matty. "It'll only be a bunch of idiot hoons out for a
Saturday night spin.... The Lygon Street Hyperbypass Squad will get
them. Just keep tracking that red Jaguar Shuttle."
"I think it's landed somewhere." offered Lachy. "It hasn't moved from
that sector for at least a minute."
"Ok, lets go for it!", cried Matty, as he expertly applied the
accelerator. Those driving lessons with Bruce Wayne were certainly
paying off.
As the duo stared out of the cockpit window into the deep reaches of
interstellar space, Lachy asked, "Mind if I re-decorate the shuttle's
lounge while we wait?"
----------------------------
The three space pirates made their way out of the Shuttle Bat, and
stood before the busy Alfalpha Space Port Metropolis.
"Wooaaah!", echoed Handyman. "This place is a dump."
"Shit yeah!", added Jordy. "Look, even the pedestrians have been
graffitied!"
Supes laughed. "More like Lachy Maher has opened a fashion boutique
here!"
"No MacGalacticChucks...", sobbed Handyman.
Superboy surveyed the busy street. "Hey folks.. look.. a Cafe!"
"Nahh!", answered Handyman. "You know what sort of BBS-user scum hang
around those sort of places!"
"How about that little bistro over there..", suggested Jordy, pointed
to a flashing neon sign above a set of stairs.
"Cawfeeld Bistro And Nightspot. What sort of a place is that?", asked
Superboy.
"I dunno," said Handyman, "but I've got some strange feeling we're
going to find our destinies in there.."
"Hey!", said the startled Superboy, "How perceptive of you, Handy!"
"Not really..", Handyman mumbled. "I think its more to do with the fact
that there is this really big sign above it written by the author that
reads 'GO HERE OR LOSE YOUR PARTS IN THE STORY'.."
And so the three space pirates decided to grab some dinner at the
Cawfeeld Bistro.
____________________________
"Waddya mean, you don't serve dinner after 6 p.m.?", taunted Superboy.
"What is this, Melbourne or something?"
"I'm sorry sirh, " apologized the waitress, Amy Morris, "but perhaps
you might be interested in some chips and peanuts from the Nightclub
next door.."
And so the three very hungry space pirates entered the Cawfeeld
Nightspot, to be greeted with really cheap neon lights, a lambada
dancer with eels down his back, and a lot of weird looking people who
could only be adequately described as "the BBS users who don't even
turn up to the meets."
A few tables away...
____________________________
Star Fleet Commander Brigitte stared philosophically into her cocktail.
Across from her sat Doc, who was trying to convince her to come along
to a church session for his brand new religion.
"You'll be spiritually enlightened!", he exclaimed, in that all-too-
familiar air of enthusiasm that religious fanatics seem to be able to
dig up even after the greatest setbacks.
"The spirits here are good enough for me.", she replied, sighing deeply
into her alcoholic cordial. She would never find true love in a dumb,
sleazy nightclub like this. And with that she took another swig of the
rapidly emptying cocktail.
"Haven't you ever wondered about why you're here? About your purpose
in life? Meaning? Like, don't you find this common existence in reality
just unsatisfying? Like.. I could show you things beyond this pitiful
destiny you seek.. I could make you into a shining bright star!"
"Star?", thought Brigitte. "You mean I could be like Bridget Bardot or
something?"
"Even better !" cried Doc. "You could be a major character in a RAT
series!"
"Nahhh", sighed Brigitte. Such stardom was just too great.
"Anyway," she said, "I thought you were stuck on some Juliff-forsaken
planet in the Milky Way Galaxy looking for the long lost Temple of
Doccism."
"Yeah I was, then..", went on Doc, approaching motor-mouth speed with
great ease, just like his idol and inspiration, Andrew the Avatar.
"When we reached the temple I..."
____________________________
"I hope you're right this time, Raphael!", grunted Michaelangelo Kirk,
as the four Turtles lumbered down a set of dark, grime-ridden stairs
outside the Cawfeeld Nightspot.
"Truuuust me!", replied Raphael Sulu. "Have my Turbo Prolog artificial
intelligence persona predication programs ever failed in the past???
C'mon.. Doc has to be in here!"
"And wez d'ya dink yours goin'?", greeted New Wave. He giggled,
noticing the strange Turtle features of the four. "To a drag-net meet
p'haps?"
"I'll handle this.", said Michaelangelo Kirk, in the usual egotistical
authoritarian Star Fleet Commander way. "As a Star Fleet officer of the
United Federation of Planets, Stars and Other Orbiting Bodies, I
request that you step aside and allow us to enter this dwelling."
New Wave's eyes lit up. This looked like fun, he thought to himself.
"Well?", pestered Michaelangelo Kirk.
New Wave didn't bother to reply. He picked up his handy bludgeon and
tapped it a few times into his grubby palm.
____________________________
"Waiter!", cried Superboy across the room, "Could you do something
about that noise outside? I can't even hear myself bullshit."
"Pity.", said Mr. Jordan under her breath. Handyman giggled, popped a
few peanuts into his mouth and followed with a swig of Coke.
[Spot the subliminal! -Ed]
"Now..", said Superboy, returning to the conversation around the table.
"First, we need a new space ship. We can't obtain total and utter power
and dominance over all living things in that rust-pitted travelling
road-accident."
"But..but..but..", said Handyman. "I like the DeLorean!"
"No buts.", replied Superboy. "Anyway, I hate doing it that way, it's
so messy."
"And where do you think we going to get a better ship?", asked Jordy.
"We don't have two space-bucks to rub together."
"What are we, holier-than-thou-space-pirates or something??", cried
Superboy. "We steal one!"
At that moment in time, the noise outside finally ceased, and into the
nightclub entered four green, black and blue turtles.
"Hmm...", thought Superboy. "And I know exactly where to find one."
____________________________
"Two beers, a Murumbidgee Muddy, and a Diet-Coke for the lady, thanks."
said Michaelangelo Kirk, positioning himself comfortably in front of
the bar.
"Sorry, we don't serve turtles here." said the barman, Gnomie.
"So ?" smirked Kirk, "I didn't ask for any."
----------------------------
Matty and Lachy trundled through the dark, concrete Alfalpha Port
shuttle bay. "There it is!", said Lachy, pointing to a badly parked red
space-Jaguar to the far left. The occupant was, to their dismay, long
gone.
"We'll never find Brigitte on this Space-Port!", complained Lachy.
"Never say never!", replied Matty. "I must find her! If I don't - and
mummy finds out she's left Star Fleet, I'll be in bigger-than-Zero-
Hour's-ego trouble !"
"Have you a problem?", spoke a faintly metallic voice from behind. The
duo spun around. No one was there.
"Who said that?", snapped Matty, his voice echoing through the dark
shuttle bay.
"I did!", replied a large rectangular metal box not far away. It was
a vending machine of some sort, one of those classic devices you meet
in Douglas Adams books, where the vending machine actually talks to
you and attempts to sway the unwilling customer into parting with a
few space-bucks for a high-caloried comestible.
"Hey, its a Serious Cybernetics Mark IV!", exclaimed Lachy. "I've never
talked to one of them before."
"Wadja selling?", asked Matty, toying with the machine.
"Flavoured edible condoms."
"No thanks.", said Matty. "I've already eaten."
----------------------------
Soon Matty and Lachy discovered the nightclub.
"You call'in dem shoez?", grunted New Wave, tapping his bludgeon into
his palm ever so slightly.
"Why, I picked them up on sale at Coles Bargain Basement!", exclaimed
Matty.
"And ya call zat a shirt?", New Wave laughed at Lachy. "It looks more
like a road accident."
Lachy was insulted. "I quite like this shirt. It matches my fish tie.
See?"
New Wave, who was a little short sighted, peered closer at Lachy's tie.
Quickly Lachy reached for the button in his trousers, and turned the
Tie Intensity Factor up to full.
"Nargggghh!", cried New Wave, blinded by the bright pink, purple and
gold colours. He staggered back against the wall, momentarily blinded.
"Good thinking!", encouraged Matty, as the two ducked into the
nightclub.
----------------------------
Matty scanned the nightclub. Then he saw her.
"Brigitte!", he cried, and rushed to her table.
"Uh oh!", shrieked Brigitte, as she dropped her cocktail and dashed off
to the 'Ladies'.
Matty and Lachy waited outside the toilet door.
"She'll have to come out.", Lachy assured the impatient Matty. "How
long can a girl stay in there?"
"Bloody long!" cried a row of men in unison, who were all lined up
outside the toilet door waiting for their dates.
----------------------------
Unbeknown to all the men waiting outside, a secret passage led from
inside the toilets to a narrow street behind the nightclub. It was
built by the many women patrons of the nightclub, who desperately
wanted to escape their extremely boring and dull dates back inside the
nightclub.
____________________________
It wasn't long before the Ninja Turtles discovered they weren't the
only major characters from a RAT series who were present at the
nightclub.
"RIGHT!", declared Michaelangelo Kirk, raising his ninja sword. "Dudes,
get those suckas!"
Handy, Supes and Jordy sprung up in surprise. "Shit!", they cried in
unison.
Raphael Sulu leaped towards Superboy, thrashing his sais. "At last we
have you and the time has come! Prepare to die, you space pirate scum."
Supes jumped backwards, and upturned a table in front of Raphael. "Such
mighty words from something so Keen. It's enough to turn me green!"
Donatella Inka reached for her Ninja star, and twirled it towards Mr.
Jordan. She ducked, and cried back, "Har-har! Inka, it appears your
Ninja star, although it travelled so very far, has missed me by several
feet, and landed in a vacant seat!"
"Curses..", swore Donatella. "Come back little girl, I want to give my
numchukas a whirl!"
Michaelangelo Kirk saw Handyman reaching for a bottle from behind the
bar. "I wouldn't try that old trick. Our turtle shells are solid as a
brick!"
Handyman saw Michaelangelo coming, and jumped onto the bar, shouting
"It's not a weapon of war. It's another Coke, I'm up to twenty four!"
Leonardo Spock came charging from behind, and shoved Handyman off the
bar, before crashing into a crowd of on-lookers.
The barman, Gnomie, cried out from under the stack of struggling
people. "Off my leg, you great big galoot! If I was manager, I'd give
you the boot!"
The reply was quick, from Amy Morris the waitress. "Don't call me a
galoot, you little concrete gnome! Why don't you go back to your garden
home?!"
Jordy ducked between blows from Donatella Inka. "Hey we're outnumbered,
three to four! Quick guys, let's use the door!".
But it was too late; Donatella Inka stood in front of it.
Handyman called back, "Jordy, I'm not so rapt, it looks like we're
positively trapped!"
"Not yet!" replied Supes. "Lets do it Rock Hudson style - use the back
door in single file!".
The trio darted over the bar and out the back, pursued by four lean
green Turtles shouting "Kowabungles!".
----------------------------
The three pirates emerged onto the street. "Where now?", pestered
Handyman.
"I got an idea!", cried Supes. He dug into his pocket, and pulled out a
small plastic bag. He then sat down and quickly began blowing.
"What are you doing!?", cried Jordy.
"Watch...", said Supes between breaths, as the plastic bag began to
expand.
"Oh, its not one of those is it!", cried Jordy in disbelief. "Oh YUK!"
The bag expanded some more, and began to take the form of a blow-up
doll.
"How we gonna escape with that?", asked the worried Handyman.
Supes blew some more. Now the doll was twice the normal recommended
size. It began to rise. Now it was several metres wide.
"Hang on!", cried Supes, as the doll began to lift into the air. The
trio reluctantly grabbed onto the balloon, and they eased off the
ground.
The four Turtles emerged from the nightclub. Leonardo Spock immediately
saw the balloon, now several hundred metres away.
"Quick - your ninja star!", cried Michaelangelo Kirk to Raphael Sulu.
Raphael Sulu pulled out a nice shiny star, and threw it towards the
hovering balloon. It struck, and a wheezing sound filled the air. The
balloon began to move swiftly under the pressure of the escaping air.
"Wooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!", cried the trio, as the balloon rocketed
over the city, and out of the sight of the cursing Turtles.
____________________________
Back inside the nightclub, Admiral Plato was enjoying three days of
R&R, got up from under the table. He eyed a gorgeous bottle blonde at
the bar. He stood up, picked something out of his pocket and unwrapped
it a little, then walked over to the floozy.
"Say, would you like a Fruit Tingle?"
The girl looked up. "Huh? Oh, no thanks.."
"Ok then. Can I tingle your fruit instead?"
{Splash!}
____________________________
"Why did you bring us here?", asked Handy, as the trio paused to catch
their breath outside the Shuttle Bay service booth.
Superboy pressed the buzzer several times impatiently.
"Yerrrs??", came the reply from inside. A funny looking face appeared
in the booth window.
"Eeek! It's Dave Bowman. What are you doing here?", asked Supes in
surprise.
"Parking shuttles, what else would I be doing ?" replied Dave.
"Thats not original." pointed out Jordy, an obvious fan of Douglas
Adams.
"No, but would he sue a RAT magazine ?" asked Dave, rhetorically.
"Reminds me of a certain other RAT star who intended to sue us, "
commented Supes. "A Mr. Ampersand I believe!"
"Anyway," said Dave, "what can I do you for?"
"Theft. Destruction of private property. Assault. Felony. Bad jokes."
replied Jordy, sighing. "The works."
"By any chance, would you happen to have a Star Ship parked here ?"
questioned Supes.
"You're in luck !" said Dave, "One came in about an hour ago. The
U.S.S.Egoprise."
"Perfect !" exclaimed Superboy. "Which way?"
"Third turbo lift on your right. Fifth level, three space ships past
the exit sign."
"Ta !" thanked Superboy, and the three pirates dashed off to the turbo
lifts.
Moments later, four green turtles came pounding down the cause-way, and
stopped at the booth.
"Did three teenage space pirates happen to come past this way ?" asked
Michaelangelo Kirk.
"None that I've seen." replied Dave Bowman, innocently.
Raphael Sulu tried to get Michaelangelo Kirk's attention.
"Hmm, " thought Kirk. "How about three teenage BBS users looking
vaguely like space pirates?"
"Nope." replied Dave again.
"Capt'n" began Raphael Sulu.
"Ok. How about three teenage BBS users looking decidely like characters
in a RAT series ?" tried Kirk.
"Hmmm. Possibly." hinted Dave.
"CAPTAIN !" cried Raphael Sulu.
Michaelangelo Kirk turned to Raphael.
"THE EGOPRISE !" yelled Raphael Sulu, pointing upwards to the glass
canopy over the shuttle bay. Through the tinted glass one could see the
myriad of glinting stars that made up the Milky Way galaxy, like city
lights on a clear night. And to the far right hand corner, the familiar
shape of the U.S.S. Egoprise was making its way into the distance.
____________________________
The nightclub was almost empty now. Doc sat at his table, all alone.
Nobody wanted to listen to him anymore. It was very disheartening.
"This is where it all began." he sighed, swirling a cigarette infested
glass. "It was in this same nightclub, ten years ago... when I was a
young lad straight out of CyberYewni, trying to find followers
for my new religion, Doccism. And {sigh} I am here again, {double
sigh} and I have failed again. Nobody wants to follow me. {sob} Nobody
wants to listen to my teachings, my wisdom, my new-found enlighten-
ment. {mega sob} What ever shall I do ? Where-ever shall I go? They
won't even take me back into Star Fleet again, now that I'm an
outlawed space pirate..."
The alcohol had reached ultimate effect now, and Doc collapsed
hopelessly into the table.
Effortlessly New Wave approached, picked up the drunken slob, and
dumped him outside.
____________________________
The End Of Episode Four.
What will happen to Doctor McCoy now? Will his religion succeed, and
give Doc ultimate control over everything? Or will it fail again, and
world continue its decadent anarchistic existence?
Where will Brigitte go next? Will Matty ever find her again? And will
mummy find out? Will Lachy ever get some fashion sense? Will the
shuttle lounge ever look hospitable again?
And what about the space pirates? What will be their next calculating
move? And how much longer can they successfully evade the Stir Trek
Ninja Turtles? Will Admiral Plato ever get more than three lines?
What of child poverty? And the greenhouse effect? What effect will this
have on the Universe's economy? What colour eye shadow will Jana Wendt
wear next? Is Santa a paedophile? And what will happen when Hinch finds
out?
These questions and many others probably have very little chance of
being answered in the next episode, but go and read it anyway..
Stir Trek 5 : The Search For Literacy Skills.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
MERRY CHRISTMAS A.T.& T.
or.. "Santa Claus is Coming to Town"
by Gordon Walker
better !pout !cry
better watchout
lpr why
santa claus <north pole >town
cat /etc/passwd >list
ncheck list
ncheck list
cat list | grep naughty >nogiftlist
cat list | grep nice >giftlist
santa claus <north pole > town
who | grep sleeping
who | grep awake
who | egrep 'bad|good'
for (goodness sake) {
be good }
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
,===. ,===,
// `=='
//
((( || (((((((((((()
##.------. ##_-
_____## / \_____##____
(((---##--/ |---##-----)))
## / / ##_-_-
##- __/__ / ##_-_-
ppppp< V >pppppppp_-_-
_- //`-x x-'// _-_-
_- ((( |,/ ((( _-_-
_- (_) _-_-
|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|-
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I'm not really that fond of cheese anyway."
-Nikolai Kinglsey
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
A DICTIONARY FOR THE NOVICE BULLETIN BOARD USER
by Inka Princess & Doc
chataholic (say ch-a-t'hol-ick) noun
someone who, unable to hold a substantial conversation in public, has
reduced their entire social interaction through late-night keyboard
conversation.
see also: cafe-user
chatattack (say chah-t-a'tack) noun
1. the accidental depression of the ALT and C keys on the SysOp's
keyboard resulting in several hours of erratic bursts of keyboard use
sometimes described as a regressive form of inter-communication.
2. a SysOp's devious way of telling you not to log-off yet.
download (say d-OW-n-l-OH-d) verb
unnecessary duplication of information. Excessive usage may cause
loss of memory.
late-night chataholic (lay-tt nye-tt chat-ah-hol-ick)
a strange, nocturnal creature that spends most of the night indulging
in the most uncivilized of rituals, chatting on a multi-lined ghetto-
style bulletin board system. Beyond the help of the most concerned
social worker. Sees less sunlight than a morlock.
leech (say l-eeeee-ch) noun
someone with a bigger hard-disc than they deserve.
megablob (say meh-ga-blob) noun
a mass of meaningless message.
see also: Lachlan Maher
page (say b-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-P!) verb
a 14 year old male Amiga user's mating call.
phlbbbbt! (say phlbbbbbt!) exclamation
go stick your head in a pig.
see also: raspberry
SysOp (say s-ih-s-oh-P!) noun
a crazed individual who thought spending several thousand dollars on
their personal computer system so that others could use it instead of
them was kind of a good idea.
shades (say shay-dz) noun
something you wear in the presence of Lachlan Maher.
see also: Shirt, Tie
Shirt (say sh-err-t) proper noun
something Lachlan Maher once wore to a barbecue, and now regrets.
Tie (say t-i) proper noun
something Lachlan Maher once wore to a party, and now regrets.
Volvo (say vul-va-oh!) noun (Swedish)
1. a big fat ugly imported car.
2. motorcyclists' nightmare.
usage: "I was run down by a Volvo."
Volvo driver (say d-ih-k-he-d) noun
person behind the wheel of a Volvo, wearing a white bowling hat.
upload (say UH-p-l-oh-D) verb
a sacrificial gift to the Gods.
zorch (say Z-orwch) noun
1. an attempt by an antisocial message writer to gain friends through
a carefully worded selection of insults, complaints, accusations and
criticism.
2. used to win arguments when the facts don't work.
word family: zorched, zorcher
usage: "I was zorched by DAC."
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
HORROR - SCOPES !
What the stars say about your future.
by the astrologer herself, Inka Princess
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Capricorn :- (Dec. 22 - Jan. 20) The goat.
With both Jupiter and Venus in Uranus this month, you are going to have
a hard time going anywhere. Try not to think about it though, and take
plenty of laxatives, and it will be sure to pass.
Lucky numbers: 266 and 413
Lucky colour : brown
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Aquarius :- (Jan. 21 - Feb. 19) The water bearer.
The sun is currently traversing your sign, so be sure to wear plenty
of sun-screen, especially at night. Conditions are favorable for a
short trip, so be on the lookout for low obstacles. Financially, your
affairs have been going discreetly in the last six months. Try to keep
it that way.
Lucky numbers: 143 and 2,954,890
Lucky colour : puce
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Pisces :- (Feb. 20 - Mar. 20) The fish.
Wonderful and exciting things are planned for this month, but
unfortunately none of them involve you in the slightest way. Mars is
very foreboding, so we recommend that you don't make plans to go there
in the immediate future. Some-one close to you will go through a
testing time, so give them a hand with their revision.
Lucky numbers: 7 and 3
Lucky colour : chartreuse
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Aries :- (Mar. 21 - Apr. 20) The ram.
Although Aries is the sign of the ram, we recommend you exercise
caution in any kind of relationship you may have with a sheep. They are
out to fleece you, or at least to pull the wool over your eyes.
Especially be on the look out for a short blonde Merino, as she is
likely to have enormous influence on your future.
Lucky numbers: 1 and .05
Lucky colour : ecru
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Taurus :- (Apr. 21 - May 21) The bull.
Your powers of persuasion will be at their greatest this month, so take
advantage of it while it lasts. Somebody connected with you intimately
in the past could reappear in your life on or after the 15th, and a
great deal of tact will be required in your dealings with them. Failing
that, a loaded shotgun could work wonders.
Lucky numbers: 275 and 19
Lucky colour : scarlet
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Gemini :- (May 22 - June 21) The twins.
You have been in two minds about something for a long time now, but
slowly the therapy is having results and you will have a much more
peaceful year once the voices stop. You and your partner will have to
proceed with caution towards a much desired goal, else you may well end
up with only a behind. Beware of small Holden cars when crossing roads.
Lucky numbers: 66 and 99
Lucky colour : gray
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Cancer :- (June 23 - July 22) The crab.
Try to avoid any temptation to ill-humour this month, as your crabby
nature could get you into difficulties with one you admire. If you have
children, don't let the nippers get you down, and try to use a more
lateral approach to problems instead of confronting them head on. Avoid
asbestos-filled products.
Lucky numbers: 3 and -147
Lucky colour : green
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Leo :- (July 23 - Aug. 23) The lion.
You will be in line to grab the lion's share of anything you come into
contact with this month. Your mane problems will be in the area of your
pride, and it is possible that you are heading for a fall. While
Jupiter is traversing your sign, conditions are favourable for all
kinds of financial transactions especially those involving cash of some
kind.
Lucky numbers: 28 and 69
Lucky colour : turquoise
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Virgo :- (Aug. 24 - Sept. 23) The virgin.
Now is the time to try something new and interesting, an opportunity to
do something you have never done before will suddenly come your way, so
don't be shy ... reach out and grab it with both hands and see just
what you can do with it. This month you may be prone to accidents, so
make certain that you take adequate precautions before embarking on
anything adventurous.
Lucky numbers: 1 and 66
Lucky colour : red
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Libra :- (Sept. 24 - Oct. 23) The scales.
Known for your safety and dependability, you will find that extra
stress this month will see a wide variety of people depending on your
special talents. Relax in the sure knowledge that you will be
adequately protected against embarrassing personal discomfort. This
month will be a good time for changes.
Lucky numbers: 21 and 7
Lucky colour : white
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Scorpio :- (Oct. 24 - Nov. 22) The scorpion.
Be cautious in dealing with small annoyances, and don't let them get
your back up over non-essential details. Financially you will possibly
feel the sting of bad investment or loan, but keep your wits about you
and avoid losing your temper if it is possible. Your best defence is
offence, and others will be well advised to tread carefully around you
at any time.
Lucky numbers: 49 and 36
Lucky colour : beige
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Sagittarius :- (Nov. 23 - Dec. 21) The archer.
A multi-talented person, you always have more than one string to your
bow. You may miss a friend or acquaintance early in the month, but you
will find your aim improving in the last week or 10 days. All your
projects will be on target and a superior or work-mate will grant you
the recognition that you seek.
Lucky numbers: 89 and 75
Lucky colour : yellow
* * * * * * * * * * * *
And if it's your birthday today, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
____ ____
/ \ / \
/ \_/ \
/ /\ /\ \ A C C H U C K S !
/ / \ / \ \
/___/ \___/ \___\
MacDonalds is that kind of place,
hamburgers in your face,
french fries between your toes,
dill pickles up your nose.
I hate those shakes and soggy bags.
I want my money back
before I have a heart a-ttack.
by Tikva and the Phantom Avenger!
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
SANTA EXPOSED!
(A multi tasking fairy tale.)
by Dave Seikel
Some names have been changed, to protect the innocent,
and the guilty.
Characters:
Lucky Mayhem : A red-haired elf in training, with a taste
for loud shirts.
Karnulf Elorin : Supervising elf, and Lucky's
trainer.
Santa Clawed : Our hero, busy delivering presents.
Various recipients of presents.
A red haired elf in a very loud shirt walks into a C.E.S. office. After
waiting in a short queue (one other person) for three hours, one of the
bureaucrats deigns to talk to him.
"Can I help you?" demands the stuffed shirt, condescendingly.
"Err, I'm looking for some seasonal work." the loud shirt responds.
"Name?"
"Lucky Mayhem."
"Take a seat, someone will be with you shorty, err shortly, and can you
do something about that shirt?"
Lucky looks around for a vacant seat, then finds a comfortable bit of
carpet in a corner to sit on.
.....
Four hours later.
"I'm sorry, we're closing now, you'll have to come back tomorrow. Bring
a quieter shirt next time."
Despondently, Lucky heads for the door. Just before leaving, he notices
out of the corner of his eye, a notice on the "Seasonal work" board.
"Elves required for large charity organisation.
Job No 128DVS69 Easy work, high pay."
"There's a job for me." exclaims Lucky, as the stuffed shirt kicks him
out of the office, locking the door behind him. Lucky squashes his face
up to the window, this giving him a clear view of the notice. He
memorizes the job number.
.....
The next day, after waiting in the C.E.S. for only five hours, Lucky
finally got to see someone about that job.
"Go to this address, and ask for Karnulf Elorin. Oh, and do yourself a
favour, change that shirt. You'll never get a job in that," ordered the
stuffed shirt, handing Lucky a piece of paper.
Much happier, now that he has a prospect for a decent job, Lucky leaves
the C.E.S., and heads across the street, to wait in the stationary tram
for a bus. He mumbles to himself "Good idea, turning these trams into
bus shelters, otherwise they would rust away from lach of use."
An official Met bus pulls up. Lucky gets on it and asks the official
Met bus driver: "Could you tell me what bus I need to catch to get
to..." he looks at the piece of paper "... err, 42 Smith Street,
Darwin?"
The Bus driver chortles to himself, then replies "Try a Greyhound, mate
and get a real shirt"
"Ta."
Lucky gets out of the bus; luckily, the next bus is a Greyhound.
"Excuse me, driver, does this bus go to 42 Smith street, Darwin?"
"Sure does, let's see your scratch ticket. I got this special seat for
you, on the front bumper. That should save wear and tear on the
headlights."
.....
Four days later.
42 Smith Street is a large, modern-looking building, with a big sign
proclaiming "Clawed Inc." Lucky enters the foyer and asks the
receptionist if he could see Karnulf Elorin.
"Certainly, sir."
Almost before she had finished speaking, an elf with long blonde hair
(and, strangely enough, a small beard) appears behind Lucky and says
"Ah, you must be Lucky Mayhem! I've been expecting you. My name is
Karnulf Elorin, and I will be your supervisor and trainer. Follow me
please."
Karnulf explains as they travel downwards: "Do you believe in Santa
Clawed?"
"Err, um, (cough). Yes I do, but don't you mean `Santa Claws'?" replies
Lucky, sheepishly. [Baaah! -Ed]
"They are the same person. Some dork spelled `Clawed' wrong, and it
stuck. Santa is the boss around here, we are a support organisation for
his activities, that's why we need a lot of elves, especially at this
time of year."
"I thought that Santa Claws.. err Clawed lived in the North Pole?"
"The cold is bad for his health, these days Darwin is as far north as
he wants to go. The organisation works like this, Santa gives us a list
of the things he wants to give to people at christmas, then we go
through that list and do what ever we have to do to get the stuff.
Then, at Christmas time, some of us sit in the control centre and keep
track of all the fiddly little details, while the rest run around
taking care of last minute details. Your education will start in the
control centre."
At that moment, the two elves arrived at their destination, a room full
of elves sitting in front of monitors, looking very much like a Space
Shuttle launch, only much more high tech.
.....
Lucky and Karnulf sat down in front of the nearest monitor.
"Where does all the money come from?", asked Lucky.
Karnulf was quick to respond. "Santa pays for it all with his American
Excess card, then he diddles with the American Excess computer, making
it look like the Yank Department of Defense paid for it all. His last
stop is the D.O.D. accounting computer, to make it think that the money
was spent on M.X. missiles, or M.X. computers, or something equally
useful."
Lucky peered intently at the monitor. A red and white motorcycle pulled
up silently beside a police station. A big bearded bikey, wearing red
and white leathers, gets of the bike. The bikey is unusual in two
aspects, he has the longest finger nails that you have ever seen, and
he is going INTO the cop shop voluntarily.
"How does he do it all in one night?", quizzed Lucky.
"Huh?", replied Karnulf. "I don't know, I think you'd have to ask Mrs.
Clawed about that one. Beats me, I've tried everything. Oysters, olive
oil, string, the works.."
"No, I meant all the delivering of the parcels..", groaned Lucky.
"Zat.. Oh, with the help of a motorcycle pulled by eight reindeer."
Karnulf twiddled a few buttons on the monitor, and the muffled voice of
Santa could barely be heard....
" .... Home of the Decadence BBS. Hmmm, two paedophiles living with
four kids and a gnome. Now, what did I have for them, ah yes, the
whips, chains and handcuffs."
.....
Lucky noticed Santa's rather large figure. "How does such a big guy fit
down those chimneys?"
"He doesn't, Santa prefers to go in the front door. Sometimes the
back door too, but that's really icky if you mess it up."
.....
The monitor's image changes, now Santa is deep in the bowels of the
Education Department's Computer center, a rapidly clicking away on the
keys of a terminal and mumbling to himself....
" .... canteen requisitions, school fees, stationary profits, excursion
details, candidates for virginal sacrifice, late notes, fake late
notes, bomb squad contact numbers, principles slush fund, corporal
punishment waiting list (teachers), donations to the Little Girl
Appreciation Society, exams, exam results, reports, AHAH! Here it is,
Anderson scores."
"Now, lets make a few changes. Lachlan Maher - 394, Doc - 386, Bruce
Wayne - 384, General Discomfort - 12."
"How does he know what to get everybody?", asked Lucky.
"He mostly gives people what they deserve, though that isn't always what
they want."
"Is that why I got a new wardrobe for christmas last year?"
.....
Now Santa was visiting a small cottage in the wilds of Burwood. Karnulf
fiddled some more buttons, and Santa's voice emerged through a speaker.
"Mr Jordan .. six MatchBox cars, lots of fashionable Barbie doll
clothes (some original), one posh house of ill repute in South Yarra,
one drivers license (hmm, I'll have to fiddle the age a bit), driving
lessons, a lifetime pass to the local panel-beaters, diamonds,
sapphires, and a billion dollars. I hope she appreciates this, it
wasn't easy finding a stretched black Statesman DeVille MatchBox car."
.....
"He must be a cop, he keeps going into cop shops.", noted Lucky.
"The visits to the cop shops are so that he can make some changes to
some philes. He changes traffic philes, drug philes, paedophiles...
Mostly to protect victimless criminals."
.....
Well, now you've seen everything, which department would you like to
start work?", asked Karnulf.
"The accounts department!", exclaimed Lachy, revealing from his pocket
a shining badge of the Taxation Department. "Under the new regulation
3.1415 paragraph 9, you can no longer write off christmas as a tax
deduction. And so Santa-baby now owes the government a trillion
dollars! That will teach him for forgetting to give the Tax
Commissioner a pressie this year!"
"But..but..", blabbered Karnulf in disbelief. "I thought you were just
a poor unemployed C.E.S. refugee?"
"Ah!", exclaimed Lucky. "Us Taxation Investigators like to hang around
C.E.S. offices. Anybody who can afford to employ people during a
recession must be cheating the government!"
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
UNDERSTANDING COMPUTER TECHNOLOGY
Pinched without regard to copyright from
Inki's Bedroom Wall
Function Key
/
__n___
I I _________
Main _ I I Floppy disk I ___ I
Storage I I ' I=(___)=I - Application Software
I I I I_/ /__I
I I I INPUT ~~\ \~~~
(____) I | /__/
II I___________
I(___/___________) - User Interface Debugging Tool
(__ I \ __
I / II
\ / - Central II
) / Processing II
OUTPUT -- I ( Unit .-._ II
I_________`, o_oo'_) II
~~~~~***&%~ `._ `._ II
###@^&&& `, \ /__\
._____._ &&&%%## - Overflow //_(_)_/ ~~~~
I o) (I/O error) ~~
(_____,-' Mouse
Backup System
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Roll out that unbleached dunny paper! Grab that empty can of V.B., it's
recyclable! Plant more walnut trees! Save the red-nosed, big bellied
hippopotamus!
Don't you just hate social trends that require effort?? Fear not, as
Dead Rat Society Helpful Hints presents...
How To Build An Image Of Being...
######### ######## ######### ######### ### ###
### ### ### ### ### #### ###
### ##### ####### ###### ###### #########
### ### ### ### ### ### ### ####
######### ### ### ######### ######### ### ###
by Bungalow Hermit
First of all, we must define the difference between "image" and
"actuality". For example, Fearless Fred puts an image of perpetual
drunkenness. In fact it is a clever cover-up of muscular dystrophy,
the omnipresent Fosters is really medication.
The aim of this informative piece of writing is to enable you to
hold an image of caring for the environment, the planet and humankind,
while in fact actually only caring about yourself, which is much more
natural.
For some time that pile of V.B. cans has been piling up in your
bedroom right? Well next time mummy comes to visit, point out to her
that you're collecting these cans for recycling.
A big consumer of electrical energy is your household hot water
system. To cut down the excessive use of hot water, don't bother
cleaning dishes; instead of drinking tea or coffee opt for a cold
drink, perhaps V.B.; and shower with a friend.
That unroad-worthy pile of scrap metal on four wheels you call a car
is a contributor to the pollution of the atmosphere. Use this as an
excuse to scum a lift off others. This method also uses less of the
world's depleted fossil fuels by saving petrol, which consequently lets
you avoid paying for petrol, and makes those greedy, scummy,
leeching service station owners go bankrupt. (Why on earth do they
call those things "service stations" when you have to do it all
yourself anyway?)
Healthy living is all part of being green. Bloody Marys with a slice
of lemon can look convincingly like tomato juice. (But watch out for
strings.) When entertaining, serve 'salads with side meat'
instead. Buy two refrigerators, store fruit, vegetables and
everything else healthy and tasteless in one, and place it in the
kitchen; and store all the food you need to eat to survive, like
microwave hamburgers, 2-minute noodles, 4'n'20s and V.B., into the
second refrigerator kept on the back verandah.
Green politics. We all know these green politicians are just as
power lusting and corrupt as the other maggots, but appearing to
support them is all you need to do. A few bumper-bar stickers will
do here. So long as no-one peeks over your shoulder when you fill
out the ballot ticket, or follows you on the evening of the first
Thursday of every month, you can still vote Commie.
Protesting for green issues. Easy! Try dropping this line at the next
party.. "Oh, yes, I was in the ten thousand strong anti-logging
protest in the city the other day, didn't you see me in the crowd??"
Recycle rats! No, not the furry kind. When you print your copy of
this edition, show it to all your friends, so they don't have to print
it out too. (The fact that this also increases our readership
is just a minor side-effect, trust me.)
Got a girl-friend who likes doing it in odd places? Why not take her
for an innocent little "nature walk" in the wilderness. Walk off the
track, and get lost for a few days!
Ozone layer depletion. Yes, a very important issue. But what about
the P-zone and the Q-zone, why doesn't anybody do anything about them
too?
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
________ __ __ __ ________ ________ ________ _________
|\_______\ |\_\|\_\|\_\ |\_______\ |\_______\ |\_______\ |\________\
| | _ | | | | | | | | | | _ | | | _ | | | _ | \|______ |
| | |_| | | | | | | | | | | |_| | | | |_| | | | | | | _/ _/ _/
| | _ | | | | | | | | | | _ | | | / | | | | | / _/ _/_
| | | | | | | |\| |\| | | | | | | | | |\ \ | | |_| | |\/ /___\
\|__|\|__| \|_________| \|__|\|__| \|__|\\__| \|______/ \|_______|
SYSOP OF THE MONTH...........................Lachlan Maher
(Gummed-up BBS ?)
DRIBBLER AWARD.......................................Tikva
LACHY MAHER WARDROBE AWARD...................Inka Princess
(Burn that dress baby!)
PISS-POT AWARD............................Alex "hic" Rogan
(again!)
PUSSY SQUASHING AWARD........................Lachlan Maher
(meeeeoooow!)
MOTOR-MOUTH AWARD...................................Avatar
WESLEY CRUSHER LOOKALIKE AWARD.........................Doc
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
CALL THESE BOARDS!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
because we're the SysOps..
VICTORIA
For interstate callers, prefix with 03
For international callers, prefix with +61-3
Decadence BBS 794-7949 all speeds to 14.4K
S.I.G. BBS 888-8846 all speeds to 2400 baud
Euphoria BBS 569-1573 all speeds to 2400 baud
The Cafe BBS (4 lines) 894-2815 all speeds to 2400 baud
(5th line) 894-3483 all speeds to 9600 baud
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
REALLY BORING OFFICIALDOM STUFF..
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
RAT is an electronic amateur writers' magazine. It is
officially unofficiated with anything official, unofficial,
or anything unofficially official.
RAT is designed to be read as an entertaining collection of
amateur writings. The opinions expressed in the file are
entirely opinionated and not necessarily the opinions of the
authors, editors, and anyone else with an opinion.
RAT is wholly electronic, in official standard ASCII text.
RAT is distributed throughout the electronic bulletin boards
of the world (primarily greater Melbourne suburbia). No
revenue may be gained from its distribution in any way. The
editors reserve the right to refuse to include any
submissions. And we're not a bunch of fascists neither.
Each new RAT is released when submissions exceed 50
kilobytes, or 50 kilograms, whichever comes first.
Upload submissions to Decadence BBS. We print almost
everything. (Exceptions are personal ego-trips, vendettas
or material in extremely bad taste.)
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
RATTITORIAL
Another RAT issue! Ok, ok, late again, but whats a few YEARS between
rats? The delay is mostly a result of having nothing to print - so get
your act together out there and write something! You couldn't do any
worse than us.
Keep your eyes open for the entirely NEW-LOOK RAT FILES to be produced
in 1993. Submissions of SF & Fantasy Short Stories, Poetry, Articles
are welcome, and can be sent via Fidonet to 3:632/103, Intlnet to
58:4100/33, RainbowNet to 199:4242/3 or ACSNet to inki@csource.oz.au,
or just log on to Decadence and upload them.
Keep rattin'.
The Eds.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
o
I I
I I _ ,-.,-. ,-.,-.
I `'I II_II___II_II
I @ I_I I I \
/ ___,-, _\.__
\/ `.____________/ `.__.--.__.--'
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= The Dead Rat Society Lives =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-