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Date: Wed, 01 Dec 1993 08:49:35 -0500 (EST)
Subject: as requested
Sender: Now more accessible than ever! <BCPALMER>
To: Donkey
Here is a forwarded message from David Foss, the wax poetical backwoods
moonshine poet of NPR's Backwoods Home Companion.
I have taken the liberty of putting Mr. David Foss' comments in th form
of a little chapeter of a little book, here goes:
Tales from Lucky River
by Brent Clark Palmer
I. Asami
Bored and boring tits
at dawn
the cuckold sings
- from "Avon Calling" The Collected Poems of Harold Robbins (1916-
)
I'm just another withered up old fool who's here to tell you about the
lifetime of wisdom I learned while at my childhood home near
[insert-relevant-place-name-here]. Oh, sorry. Following the instructions
too
damn closely. Er, that is to say, I'd like to share with you young people
out
there all that I learned from all the colorful characters down at Lucky
River, the river near my boyhood home.
Now I'm withering away about now just like an old flower and all of you
are
sprouting up and blossoming like a brand new field of bright and white
and
yellow daisies. And I'm more of a periwinkle, really, but a shriveled-upped
periwinkle, just purple and shriveled and kind of just hanging there, like
this book in your hands, only smaller. And I like to think of you all as
daisies. I hope that's all right, but even if it offends you, if I'm not
being all politically correct and all, well just remember I'm a shrivelled
up
old periwinkle, and I don't mean any more harm than, say, a puppet of Ronald
Reagan, an old, old rotten puppet of Ronald Reagan. Really old and really,
like, rotting, but still with a twinkl
e in my wooden eyes. Is that enough metaphors for one paragraph? I think
so.
Any way, I thought I'd start out by telling you about Asami, the woman
with
a shack down by Lucky River who welcomed all the gentlemen in regularly
if
you know what I mean. But she was no worse than these rock and roll
performers nowadays. She had a corncob porntaneousness about her like making
hay was invented just so she could shake it all over you like rain. And
that
rain trickled down into the river. And that river was Lucky River, and
that's
the very same river that this book is about. That's why I called this book
"Tales from Luck River".
Whereas other men of my generation claim to have earned their wisdom from
their experiences in the first year at a public school (yeah, right!),
my
tales have more integrity in that I maintain I "learned everyting
I needed to
know" over about a ten year period and from several diff
erent people in varied socioeconomical conditions.
For example, Asami, could not be said to be in any way like any typical
adult of that fantasyland wooden-nickel nausea-talgic past you may have
read
about in other "autobiographies". She was as hot and steamy as
any woman that
would drive your modern day preacher to declare the end at hand. She had
silky black hair like a clerical robe which she wore around her perpetually
naked and only semi-tattooed body down by the river where she bathed and
that
is what she was doing when I first saw her. My penis almost still could
get
erect if it really really wanted to, when I think about my first glimpse,
at
nine-years-old, at this beautiful Pocahontas of our little wilderness.
I did
not see her little wilderness until many years later, after the war when
I
went back to Asami in her shack just because after a war, young folks,
you
just don't give a damn what you do anymore, which is why a lot of people
of
the older generation mess with your minds just for fun and you think they're
being serious, you twats. After a war, it don't matter that Asami was
seventy-nine and toothless and that her mouth felt just the same as the
canvas bag we kept the rations in in the army. Anyway, I still recall the
perfumed Asami, rolling about in my nose with the smell of the swampy river,
the musky frogs craoking smells both base and exotic. We turned and whirled,
I always in my mind seeing that you
nger Asami in the river with the long black hair. The river too.
And then there was the local church, not to give you readers the whiplash
effect or anything, but the church was always scrubbed up sleek, like a
woman, I suppose, and the pews were hard though, and the hymnals smelled
like
old dusty wine. When I got to college I read about "the wine dark
sea" in
Homer's book and all I could see were the hymals and my childhood church
floating and Odysseus waving, not drowning, from the simple bell tower
we
built when I was six-years-old with the leftover money from all the
collections every Sunday. Nowadays the leftover money goes to buy more
brill
cream for the preacher's hair or even a television for the dog, I hear,
but
back then we feared God more than wanting to appease out pets, and we built
our own little spire pointing up to Heaven, and I'd stare up at that spire
from my surprisingly low vantage point, being a child and all, at night
especially, and see which of the stars the spire pointed to, and I figured
that whatever star that was, from wherever I was looking, that that star
was
the portal into Heaven and
the presence of God.
I still think sometimes that the stars are angels which at least tell us
there bright wordless stories about God, and I still think more about Asami,
but I guess that makes
me a sinner like you, that's all.
My parents were very firm with me. They insisted I eat oatmeal for breakfast
because Grandpa Brimley said it was the only good thing in our heart or
some
shit like that. I hope you don't mind me cussing as I do, little ones,
but
you see I fought in a war, and so I have nothing to lose by tossing around
whatever shit I want to whenever I want. Do you think that being originally
crude is an original idea invented by some hippie in the Sixties? Actually,
my parents said Jesus was the original Original, but I came to think that
everyone is the original Original and if you don't understand what I mean
well then I guess maybe you think I'm just some whining old art fag. But
I'll
tell you this, I never worked harder than at chopping wood, or gathering
the
kindling, or at shoeing the horses, so don't try and tell me that my parents
weren't just as impossible as yours or that I am living with some kind
of
mountaintop in my head, when in actuality I've struggled in the valley,
and
lower than that, in the foxholes, and this book is about a river where
a
whore lived, not about some artsy fartsy river of Campbell's soup, because
it
was definitely more of an oatmeal river, and not a cream of chicken riv
er at all.
So, yes we had the checkerboard tablecloth on the table, and yes my mother
smelled like lavender and my father like lavender oil, but that was still
a
damn near Victorian time here in the States, particularly in the backwoods,
and shoot even the wedding march which was played for the first time for
Queen Victoria's daughters is still around, and so am I, and so are my
memories, and you're sort of the bride trampling down the aisle of this
book,
and you might go too fast or too slow, and you sure as hell aren't looking
to
see who all the guests are so Ican't blame you, but I'm telling you that
you're trampling the wrong direction because the only original bridegroom
is
already within you and these words in this book should mean about as much
to
your Messiah-nized self as the review of some dumb television program in
the
TV Guide because everything anybody is saying is about the same things
and is
as important as anything everybody is always saying, which is why I don't
mind cussing at you, and that's a
ll I'm going to say about that.
We had a doctor in the town and he was as smart as any man of my youth.
He
lived as high and far from Lucky River as he could, because he feared the
flooding. But it never did flood. Another smart person in town was the
librarian, and she was about the same as any librarian I've ever known.
She
had a vague interest in just about anything, but talked mostly about the
"black Orpheus" people of the darker regions of the planet and
how it had
been proven that they enjoyed Bach more than we did. She was always proving,
out-loud, nutty, romantic ideas about the poor and remote people, but I
guess
that's what we were too. Shoot, the very first time I left Lucky RIver
wasn't
until I was ten-years-old when I went ten miles up a mountain to Bucksnort
with Pappy for some charcoal. He had this weird idea that I could help
him
carrry it, but in retrospect I think he just wanted my company because
he'd
been arguing with my mother and he probably didn't want her to indoctrinate
me to her way of seeing things. My parents were very different but they
stayed married although I knew three divorces that happened in Lucky just
inside of a week after a preacher with a circus-like tent came through.
The
ministers contributed as much to the end-of-the-world craze as any minister
does today. Some times I wonder if these ministers aren't doing more to
cause
the general feeling that the world is ending thatn all the so-called heathen
they are always pointing fingers at and railing against, and if you watch
these religous programs, and if you've lived a long time, you sort of start
to notice that everyone has visited Asami, or that they're going to, sooner
or later, and you notice that most of these people they get the close-up
shots of who are sweating or crying or smiling are all confused, and if
you
listen to the preach
ers they are as desperately confused most of the time just like everyone
else.
At least I lived through a war and can tell you in a focussed way that
confusion is a pretty-much universal thing and there is no rationalizing
anything except maybe baseball, but hardly that anymore, which is maybe
why I
set myself down to write this book, to make an order out of things that
really doesn't have an order, but it did seem to have the clockwork order
of
a really good book when I was a child at Lucky River, and so I guess that's
why I'm writing, although I'll be damned if I care who I make any sense
to,
because I know which guests I invited, even if you aren't going to take
the
time to look to the sides and take a good look at who the bridegroom invited
or to the stars where each angel is telling its own ancient vers
ion of the eternal truths. As am I.
______
Thank you. Thank you very much.
b "grapenuts-eating midwestern hohoing anti-Dan" <p>
p.s. explanatory note: this was all intended to show what we would read
from
the venerable Foss if he'd been raised a Christian, near Bucksnort, Tennessee.
EXPUNGE
========================================================
Date: Thu, 2 Dec 1993 00:47:09 -0500 (EST)
From: <LIBWCA>
Subject: I'll paint any car for $99.99
To: Donkey
All men are brothers; that's what I heard. Anybody know anything
about that?
But that's not why I called.
---------- Forwarded message ----------
Date: Wed, 1 Dec 1993 21:52:28 -0600
From: SCOTT LESSER <WHITEMAN@>
To: Multiple recipients of list FNORD-L <FNORD-L%UBVM.bitnet>
Subject: Re: is it dead yet paw?
Scotto,
I never claimed to be a Scott Lesser, but now that you mention it...
Love,
Scott Lesser
P.S.- Go fuck yourself!
----------End Forward------------
I don't believe this should be let to slide. Star Trek jokes are one
thing, but taking the name of our Beloved Listowner in vain is
something else again.
And another thing - I'm starting to feel kind of sorry for those
little yokels we used to pick on all the time. Groveling feebs
they may be, but dammit, they're our groveling feebs; and here
good old Fnord-l has been invaded by creatures far more annoying
than they are, and they're trying so hard to play like they know
what they're doing. It's kind of touching.
I'm sorta considering the idea of making a one-time-only pre-dawn
airstrike on this Whiteman character, just for sentimental reasons -
but if it's gonna get done, I think we should all do it together.
Am I being a blubbering old geriatric retard, or what?
Malibu Skipper
Startin' to Wonder...
=========================================================
Date: Thu, 2 Dec 1993 13:07:14 -0500 (EST)
From: <LIBWCA>
Subject: Re: I'll paint any car for $99.99
To: Donkey
>Not at all. A consolidated attack on Whiteman seems just the thing
>to get the blood going of a morning. Let me know when, Skipper!
>
>EJ
--
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Well, never mind. Scott took care of it rather nicely, I thought.
But that's not why I called.
Why doesn't Foss ever write cryptic little notes to me? I'm his
biggest fan. Is Brent Palmer his biggest fan? No. Is Melanie
Willis his biggest fan? No. Is Merciful Lee Dickens his biggest fan?
Well, okay - Dana can be his co-biggest fan. Along with me. His
biggest fan. To whom he never writes any cryptic little messages,
the worthless, putrid, stinking pond scum.
Could it be that he sees through my facade? Knows me for the shallow,
uncomprehending diletante I really am? Naw. It's a good facade.
Nobody can see through it. It's opaque. What I figure is one of
you wretched little toads, probably Cynthia Bock-Goodman, told him
about the time I forgot to turn off the stove under a pot of black
beans, and woke up to a house full of smoke and a kitchen bespattered
with that purple stuff that inexplicably comes out of black beans, even
though the beans themselves are black. Hence the name. Black beans.
A fellow who would do something like that is a fellow who would suck
eggs, which C.B-G. probably also said during her insidious, backstabbing
little tet-a-tet with the man I revere as a god, so it's no wonder he
won't talk to me. I wouldn't talk to me either, if I knew those things
about myself, which I don't - my porntaneity protects me like an iron
diaper.
Malibu Skipper
Your Friend and Mine
=========================================================
Date: 02 DEC 1993 06:53 -06
From: Merciful Lee Dickens<DICKENS>
Subject: Reply to I'll paint any car f
To:Donkey
>
<FNORD-L%UBVM.bitnet>
Subject: Re: is it dead yet paw?
P.S.- Go fuck yourself!
>
I'm sorta considering the idea of making a one-time-only pre-dawn
airstrike on this Whiteman character, just for sentimental reasons -
but if it's gonna get done, I think we should all do it together.
Am I being a blubbering old geriatric retard, or what?
*** Comments from DIANA MOON GLAMPERS; 12/02/93 06:34am:
Let dead dogs rot.
I think Abraham Lincoln said that.
It's Dec.2nd now. I'm another year older and a whole shitload
wiser, so you can trust me when I tell you that after 4 Dos Equis,
2 Heinekens and about 5 mugs of a delicious mixture of half Grolsch/
half Guinness that I don't even have a hangover now. And I got up
at 4:45 and walked five miles in the snow to the kitchen, where I
encountered Juan Valdez giving a little Christmas goose to his
mule, bought some primo jit and cooked up a pot of rocket fuel that
stood me in good stead as I passed the space shuttle and waved at
the astroauts, "Ask not what your country can do for you, but get
in
that damned kitchen and make me another drink! And don't let Abraham
Lincoln kick you in the ass on your way out."
And I also am reminded of those great anonymous Americans, New
Englanders, I believe, from the classic American parable of humorous
misunderstanding where one of the bus passengers shouted, after losing
her aspirins, "My aspirins!", to which the bus driver responded,
"Well, then - STICK IT OUT THE WINDOW, LADY!!!"
Ha Ha
But I Digress,
Merciful
=========================================================
Date: Thu, 2 Dec 1993 16:22:21 -0500 (EST)
From: <LIBWCA>
Subject: Why, you contemptible little toad -
To: Donkey
>I believe you will find the apt descriptive noun "dilettante"
has
>three T's, you simple-minded cumdrunk fuckboy.
>
>Merciful
>Who Read It On The Bathroom Wall
>Back In The Seventies
You're flaming ME for a SPELLING ERROR? You really think you can
get away with that, you demented wharf rat? My Masserati does 185,
pink boy, and I can get out to the god-forsaken backwater you call
home in less time than it takes you to scratch your ass with a
corncob. Fuel tank need molesting, Rollins? Hmm?
Malibu Skipper
(I presume, by the way, that you received my birthday greeting, and
didn't delete it in your drunken stupor.)
=========================================================
Date: Thu, 02 Dec 1993 09:17:16 -0500 (EST)
Subject: please help me!!!
Sender: Now more accessible than ever! <BCPALMER>
To: Donkey
I have just received a note from Daniel Foss.
This is, as we all know, the pre EXPUNGE equivalent hearing God's voice.
God only sent me one sentence, and it was written in the style of G. Stein,
another nurturing Jew, but I know there are cosmic implications to this
event, because there just have to be.
Oh well, here's a summary of chapters two and three.
You think I *choose* to waste your time with my shit?
I just do what they (not They they, but they they) tell me.
SYNOPSIS <all-lined-up-really-pretty>
Ah, "I pity the fool," as the eloquent and gold bedecked Mr.
T might say
at just such a moment. I feel as though I have gone a bridge too far, my
comrades. Chapter Two was about a creationist vs. Evolutionist frog race
but the frogs are kidnapped by renegade Darwinians, and chapter three is
about three "sons of a grizzly man" who each shine of a different
metal,
who confront the men from King Ranch who are trying to build a bridge on
a beautiful bed of moss. But the autobiographer/persona's grandmother is
on hand with a hoe and in full beekeeper garb, while the mayor, John Roe
dies and is replace by his wife Fay Roe, whose task is to stop this con-
frontation. I'm so damn pleased I got all of these sentences to line up!
deeply deeply disturbed,
b<p>
=========================================================
Date: Thu, 02 Dec 1993 15:52:14 -0600 (CST)
From: <cmbg> (Cynthia)
Subject: Massive - why not call it massive
To: Donkey
Okay M. Skipper-
So I did tell him. And it felt *sooooooooo gooooooood* too.
So fucking sue me.
If you'd read either "Beanism Explained," or "On Beanism"
you would know
exactly why I did it. I give you that much credit. But you haven't so
just keep whining, I'll put beans in my ears so I can't hear you.
Oh, and by the way...
the rabbit died
Cynthia Myers Bock-Goodner
=========================================================
Date: Fri, 03 Dec 1993 07:30:17 -0400 (EDT)
From: scott lesser <LESSER>
Subject: boys stood upon their chairs to make their points of view. i smiled
sadly, for a law i could not obey...
To: Donkey
================================================================================
From: Melanie Willis (GS0383)
Date: 2-DEC-1993 20:26:52.00
To: LESSER
Subj: please advise
Scott, will you post this to your list of the expunged?
I would like to know who can help me to find a talking Barney that will
talk
to me about my kid. I need help. I don't want any of the standard Barney
ideology, I want to reach above and beyond all of that. I want inspiration.
I
don't want to hear about cleaning up and everybody doing their share.I
don't
want to hear about eating carrots and celery sticks.
I'm sorry, but that's not my style. And no magic words ("PLEASE"
and "THANK
YOU" for the uninitiated) and none of Baby Bop's blankey. I want more,
more
outof my Barney. I want a purple man to sit with me and talk with me and
walk
with me and tell me, what does it really MEAN to be Santa Claus for the
first
time? Where is the island of misfit toys and how can I get there? I don't
want
my kid to be a ninja turtle or a barney groupie. They're starting to come
after me now, the retail world is GEARING UP. They are standing in the
aisles,
at the cash registers, they are looking us over and saying PLEASE and THANK
YOU. Grandma's already got the talking Barney, where in the hell is the
thinking Barney? And the sticks that I used to play with in the dirt in
the
back yard? Now THAT's where your creativity gets a real jump start, playing
with sticks in the back yard. And drawing pictures in the dirt. That is
the
way.(And when I was a kid I had to walk two miles each way to school, even
during blizzards. This is all absolutely true. One time I had to walk all
the
way back to get my lunch money. This is true.)Barney keeps all those kinds
of
grim details about life secret, keeps it all repressed inside that ostensibly
merry purple exterior, those big purple hips (that for some reason remind
me
of polyester pantsuits and certain termagants of my childhood, real mean
ones)swing along the merry road like he's on the way to the emerald city
when
in fact you and I all know the guy's probably a skinny little twerp who
like
Pee Wee takes off his costume after work and heads for the theater or at
the
very least the bank downtown. Oh, but please, don't listen to me. I just
resent anyone so wholesome. He really makes me feel like a clod, you know
what
I mean? Hell no you don't, I'm sure you don't. He's trained my little boy
so
well that now every time I run into him he looks up at me and says, "Excuse
me, Mommy." And I'm always running into him, for some reason. Why
is that? And
why is there so much TV anyway? What did they do in the old days with the
kids
to teach em manners? What did they do with me?
Well, excuse this ranting and raving. I am scared of shopping for Christmas.
I'm afraid of the crowds and the ringing bells of the salvation army and
the
people at the intersections with signs saying "WILL WORK FOR FOOD."
And here I
am concentrating on getting my kid a talking Barney (to keep up with the
other
kids that he doesn't know yet) while somebody wants to work for food. Maybe
I
should get them to teach my kid manners. Instead of saying "excuse
me", you
say, "back off!" Right?
Remember the magic words. (Again: PLEASE and THANK YOU).
By the way, I had a Malibu PJ in my own youth and she outdid Malibu Skipper
anyday.
See you. Melanie
================================================================================
From: Melanie Willis (GS0383)
Date: 2-DEC-1993 21:32:41.00
To: LESSER
Cc:
Subj: sorry but I can't shut up today
Ok, here's some more questions for the expunged.
Is a woman (under 30) with no fine jewelry less of a woman?
Is a man (any age over 18) less of a man with no wheels? If you have to
go
and pick his lousy ass up because he can't afford to pay those blood-
sucking insurance companies? You know the ones? Look out! Get a ticket
and pay for the rest of your miserable mediocrity-of-a-life days. Don't
give me your lift your voices so that cybernetically, theoretically, from
your vast distances and your blue skies and wherever the hell you
all are, together you will lift me up, away and away, beyond this
place.
Please. THank me. And thank you. And to all a good night.
Melanie used to live here
=========================================================
Date: 03 DEC 1993 08:59 -06
From: Merciful Lee Dickens <DICKENS>
Subject: OLD AND IN THE WAY
To: Donkey
>
Okay M. Skipper-
So I did tell him. And it felt *sooooooooo gooooooood* too.
So fucking sue me.
If you'd read either "Beanism Explained," or "On Beanism"
you would know
exactly why I did it. I give you that much credit. But you haven't so
just keep whining, I'll put beans in my ears so I can't hear you.
Oh, and by the way...
the rabbit died
Cynthia Myers Bock-Goodner
***Comments from DEMENTED WHARF RAT; 12/03/93; 08:50am: ***
You know, this is the fifth time I've read this message from the
elusive Ms. Myers Bock-Goodner, and I've got to admit:
IT JUST KEEPS GETTING FUNNIER AND FUNNIER!!!
But I think Abraham Lincoln said it first.
I also think it's a travesty of justice that that poor little bunny
had to die just to prove that the elusive (NOT) Ms. Myers Bock-Goodner
was a woman of sporting morality.
(Rumor has it that Daniel "Snake" Foss had more than a hand in
it -
stay tuned for further gossip!)
Be Sweet,
Merciful Lee Fontaine Cubensis-Dickens
Rolling In Hyphens Since Receiving Fat Boy's Death Threat
(and yes, thank you: birthday greeting)
=========================================================
Date: Fri, 3 Dec 1993 16:38:49 -0500 (EST)
From: <LIBWCA>
Subject: You can't be too paranoid...
To: Donkey
EJ Title-Character sez:
>Thanks, man, we were all very concerned abou that one [?!?].
I know. I could feel it, like a hairy, pustulent mass in my colon.
The first time you make a mistake, they'll falter, look around a bit,
and then start moving toward the cliff again.
The second time, they stop, and sometimes prodding them back into
action requires electricity, strategically applied.
The third time, they turn on you and devour you.
Remember that, EJ, when I'm gone.
But that's not why I called...
Who's posting those Cecil things to Fnord? It's not one of you, is it?
Cecil things cannot be posted without they meet two requirements:
A) They must be funny.
B) They must be posted by someone I don't detest, or H. Uniatz don't detest,
who is the co-owner of the Cecil Intellectual Property.
These recent Cecil things miss out on the first requirement, but if they
hit on the second, it might be let to slide. Everybody don't have to be
funny all the time.
On the other hand, if these recent Cecil things were posted by wambly
little dogturd leftovers which ain't liked by me, and I doubt by Uniatz
neither, then... well, probably they should just be ignored in that
case, to avoid egging the little bastards on. But then I'd get to feel
the white-hot insecticide of resentment deep in my intestines. And I
like that.
Malibu Skipper
=============================================================
Date: Fri, 03 Dec 1993 13:17:03 -0500 (EST)
Subject: You're scaring my baby girl
Sender: Now more accessible than ever! <00bcpalmer>
To:Donkey
My baby girl is a mere four months old.
I am always with her when I am writing you all.
We call her "Sally" but also "Kitten" or "The
Kitten".
Her grandparents just bought her an ice cream truck (I'm not kidding).
Right now she is chewing on a very soft lamb pillow thingee.
My wife and I hated Barney before it was fashionable to hate Barney.
But I buy Barney things all the time and put them where they will frighten
my wife, Melissa, AKA "Bunny" or "The Bunny".
I put a barney on the shower nozzle, for example. Scared the wee wee
out of her. This message has no meta-meaning. Just sharing the parenthood
thing.
Damn Capitalism is evil.
b<p> "The Daddy"
=============================================================
Date: Mon, 06 Dec 93 10:18:50 EST
From: AP <LIBALP>
Subject: INTRODUCTION
To: Donkey
Please add to your distribution lists a new member: Bill's ponytail,
goes by name of "Twinkie". Here's the address:
TWINKIE@BILLS.BIG.HEAD.ORG
Twinkie has taken up residence on the back of Bill's head, which, as
you may know, puts him a long way from the monitor, hence the separate
address. Plans are for Twinkie to move to the top of Bill's head,
as soon as the circus leaves town.
thanks!
ap
=============================================================
Date: Mon, 06 Dec 1993 10:47:27 -0500 (EST)
Subject: Regarding Twinkle
Sender: Now more accessible than ever! <00bcpalmer>
To:Donkey
a reader writes:
>Twinkie has taken up residence on the back of Bill's head, [etc.]
Perhaps some of you have read C.G. Jung's "Synchronicity: An Acausal
Connecting
Principle". Perhaps not.
Nonetheless, here is yet another example of this "principle"
in effect, in
being, in flowing, .. in, that is to say, The Eternal Now, becuase a short
week ago I purchased a stuffed reindeer for my wife, which she named, that
is right, you guessed it, you are precognitive -- "Twinkle".
Nexy thing you know we'll be reading about twinkles everywhere. I see that
Bill has just dropped a line. For this moment, this Camelot,
We are TWINKLE-L,
Abondanza because twinkles don't often last,
Melancholy b<p>
=============================================================
Date: Mon, 06 Dec 1993 11:21:44 -0500 (EST)
Subject: more zany anagrams!
Sender: Now more accessible than ever! <00bcpalmer>
To: Donkey
Arthur Parker = PURR, EARTH ARK
and
Frank Zappa = Fan, Park, -- Zap! <-- This is terrible news :(
Dear EJ, sending you chapter three now!
bemused b<p>
Brent <Pollux> = PULL NEXT ORB
=============================================================
To: Donkey
From: EJFORD
Date: 6 Dec 93 13:28:56 EDT
Subject: Re: not synchronicity; file under "destiny"
Junior, one "get's pregnant," or "knocked up," as we
scientists
prefer to call it, when a man invests his life-giving semen in the
otherwise useless womb of the female. This leads the female to feel
fulfilment and increases their already high regard for the
wonderfulness that is Man. As to how he "invests," he uses a
good
broker, such as E.F Hutton. That's why when your E.F. Hutton speaks,
people listen. It's just unnatural.
Women are completely passive in this whole opperation, which is just
as well because they have trouble when it comes to making decisions.
E. "Bob" Manley,
Sexist Bastard
=========================================================
Date: Mon, 6 Dec 1993 12:47:32 -0500 (EST)
From: <LIBWCA>
Subject: That most ultimate of ironies...
To: Donkey
You can borrow my fingernails, Allison Freeman, if you'll promise to
name the wee tyke "Bucket". Gender is irrelevant - the name transcends
ordinary social paradigms. Please name your child "Bucket," Allison
Freeman. You'll make me the happiest man on Earth, and I'll endow a
chair in Telekinetic Space Algebra in his name at the University of
Kentucky.
Malibu Skipper
Wondering about the gradation of ultimacy
=========================================================
Date: Tue, 7 Dec 1993 18:10:11 -0500 (EST)
From: <LIBWCA>
Subject: I'm going to the love-in to sit and play my bongos in the dirt
To: Donkey
Once upon a time, not so very long ago, I was walking across what I
took to be a barren stretch of a college campus, singing rather loudly
to myself - singing, in fact, the very song quoted in the subject line
of this post. Boppin' as I walked, stretchin' out the chords; imagine
my chagrin, then, when I heard the footsteps of a fellow fellow behind
me, and closing fast. He drew alongside; I glanced right. "Oh, it's
okay," I told myself, "he's a foreigner," said thought followed
by deep
liberal-guilt-type feelings.
But I got over it. Now I just act like everybody's a foreigner, and I
do what I please. But that's not why I called.
Is it my imagination, or do television commercials have absolutely
no connection with the products they're meant to advertise? Am I
missing the subtle link between denim and _Triumph of the Will_?
Advertisements which are primarily about sex I understand completely,
and I can grasp the idea that you can't really make a commercial that's
*about* perfume, what with the missing olfactory element and all; but
isn't it just a little frightening that such a wide variety of products
are flogged using techniques developed by totalitarian neo-realist
painters?
As we all know, Nazi spaceships developed by Werner Von Braun were
concealed in the Hollow Earth following the German collapse in 1944;
is it possible that these spaceships were packed to the rafters with
the frozen embryonic clones of the Third Reich's most brilliant high
fashion designers and conceptual artists? Could we be seeing the
fruition of a brilliant last-ditch scheme for world domination, perhaps
orchestrated from a control bunker high in the Peruvian Andes by a
Cray supercomputer running an AI program coded from the neural patterns
of der Fuhrer himself?
If this scenario is accurate - and scientists working around the clock
expect to confirm it as soon as they pay for the pizza, so be prepared
for a barrage of pre-verified facts and figures if you expect to dispute
me here - then every penny you spend on fashion daywear and high-tech
personal electronics brings us that much closer to the moment when we'll
have to fight again the battle our grandfathers fought and died to win,
some of them actually with blood coming out. Take a moment and think
about that the next time you reach for the plastic. It's your call.
Malibu Skipper
"This Machine Kills Fascists"
=========================================================
To: Donkey
From: <EJFORD>
Date: 8 Dec 93 09:42:40 EDT
Subject: Re: Employment Oppurtunity
I am responding to the announcement which I saw in Tiger Beatings
magazine for management positions with your Fashion Hammer shops.
I would like to ask a few questions about the job.
First, do you mind if I wear a tin-foil beany? I realize that this
must sound strange but my name is Edward J. Ford and my Social
Security Number is xxx-xx-xxxx.
Second, how much does it pay, and if the pay is insufficient, do you
mind if I participate in "in-store stock shrinkage" to supplement
my
income?
Third, may I talk on the phone, ignoring customers and irritating
employees with impunity?
Fourth, may I employ only my friends and fire those that do not think
Robin Hitchcock is dreamy (by the way, could you not call me Reg?
It's not my name. Not yet, anyway.)?
Fifth, what are we selling?
Sixth, does the reindeer bite, and will he mind if I bring my pet
attack badger, Kibo, with me to work?
Finally, Do i have to be a specific gender for employment? I
vascilate.
EJ "Record retail is my middle name" Ford
=========================================================
To: Donkey
From: <EJFORD>
Date: 9 Dec 93 10:19:39 EDT
Subject: Hey! Neat vacation Idea!
I am not sure if you guys have heard about this, but some nutty
youngster has made the front page don't here in Florida for filching
a plastic pink flamingo. Here's what he/she did: that flamingo went
on an 11,000 mile sojourn around the country. How do they know? The
thief took pictures of the flamingo at all sorts of tourist
attractions around the country and mailed them to the owner as though
they were from the flamingo, who's name, it seems, is Phil.
Then, the individual returned the flamingo with luggage and
souveneirs from all the tourist attractions.
EJ "Free Phil" Ford
=========================================================
Date: Thu, 09 Dec 1993 08:09:19 -0500 (EST)
Subject: a note from myself <fwd>
Sender: Now more accessible than ever! <BCPALMER>
To: Donkey
From: IN%"eumaeus@aol.com" 9-DEC-1993 08:05:39.75
To: IN%"00bcpalmer"
CC:
Subj: Spring Break, Broken, ... Gone
Date: Thu, 09 Dec 1993 08:04:42 -0500 (EST)
From: eumaeus@aol.com
Subject: Spring Break, Broken, ... Gone
To: 00bcpalmer
Dear Gents and assorted opposite-gendered-individuals,
I have the cycle of who-we-are, of this This, all figured out. When the
foilage becomes sparse, and the snow abounds, and the ethos is wearing
a
Spartan uniform, I begin jumbling anagrams. This is shortly followed by
EJ
presenting a farce on capitalism. These events are predictable as they
are
presaged by "re-runs" and the death of a famous person (e.g.
Lennon, Halston,
Zappa, Borgnine, etc.) and the cycle is always the same. Next up, Lesser
will
begin decrying capitalism, subconsciously responding to EJ but them his
discourse will slowly shift to personal lovelife banter. Bill will rally
the
troops against a phony enemy, at which point we enter spring. Spring is
when
the unpredictable earthquakes (Foss) are most likely to happen. And on
and on
and on. You fellows know the cycle too. The question I have is: "Will
spring
ever come?"
We have no common enemy to rally the Colonels, Generals, and assorted Kings
and faux dictators around. Are we, in this isolation booth renegade list,
in
a long long hot hot winter winter?
Buck me up, ap, with talk of touchstones and troop history! Where's private
Hermie Abortion, USAF? Is he flying? Cynthia, could you just ooze for a
bit
about how we're more worthwhile than x -- (x being the unhip pseudo-*us*
of
your choosing)?
Merciful, could you threaten to leave, as that brings summer. Perhaps we
could skip spring altogether. Ah well, now I see ... *I* volunteer to be
the
enemy, the public private Hermie, the anti-group thick-skulled asswipe.
*I*
will sacrifice myself so spring may come. EJ, Start selling those Easter
Seals.
Ahem, Gentleman, I can't understand your cold winter coats and hibernations.
Loose thee and discuss Donkey anatomy or I will have a chat with the
Principal.
That ought to do it.
Dr. Eugene C. Pollux, MHA
Important University
=========================================================
Date: Thu, 9 Dec 1993 12:33:24 -0500 (EST)
From: <LIBWCA>
Subject: Hey! Neat vacation Idea!
To: Donkey
<Epic of Phil the Pink Flamingo deleted>
I hereby declare this extraordinarily cool; yea, the coolest of all
the tales I have heard this day. 'Twill be told round many a watercooler
by thy sons and daughters, even unto the seventh generation.
But that's not why I called.
Arthur and I are considering having Whiplash defoliated upon his arrival
here. We consider this a Good Thing, because if he's covered with
tropical flora and rice paddies, how will Dana be able to call in an
airstrike if need be? These decisions weight heavy upon my soul...
Malibu Skipper
Consort of Ghouls
=========================================================
Date: Thu, 09 Dec 1993 12:56:48 -0400 (EDT)
From: KNOTEYE <LESSER>
Subject: RE: Hey! Neat vacation Idea!
To: Donkey
>Arthur and I are considering having Whiplash defoliated upon his arrival
>here. We consider this a Good Thing, because if he's covered with
>tropical flora and rice paddies, how will Dana be able to call in an
>airstrike if need be? These decisions weight heavy upon my soul...
Did she do that to him? That BITCH!
Turning Whippy into some kind of a fucking Chia Pet...
It's just not right.
Vacantly,
heavy-headed net.suicide with liquid paper grin
=============================================================
To: Donkey
From: EJFORD
Date: 9 Dec 93 08:37:37 EDT
Subject: You'll never guess who I saw last night!
Well, you might. I went to dinner with Allison, Rob and Do
(pronounced dough, not doo)! It was great until Allison started
throwing food at neighboring tables and rob was forced to soak his
hand in pickle juice. Do and I merely watched in horror as those two
caused a ruckus.
Allison has raised the issue of my personal arrogance upon meeting
these two fine individuals. I admit, an opening line of "What are
YOU looking at" may not have endeared me to the two fellows, but,
say
lah vee.
Yes, the Southern Leadership Conference was a great success!
Godspeed, Rob Holder! Good luck and Good eating!
By the way, while Rob's appearance was a delightful surprise based on
my imaginary picture of a small, yet sturdy, mole-like creature, Do
looked exactly as I imagined him. EXACTLY. Down to the purple shirt
and matching underoos.
EJ "Arrogant and sorry about it" Ford
PS: Hey, Bill T., sorry I flicked lettuce and beans at you, OK?
========================================================================
Date: Thu, 09 Dec 93 12:45:10 EST
From: <LIBALP>
Subject: THATCHED PARACHUTE EMBROIDERY SNORKLING
To: Donkey
Fuck fuck fuck! I forgot to have EJ measure Rob for the Celebrity
Sack Race and Dumpster Hump. But then, little tree-screwer like EJ
probably do metric trying to be all cutey-pie and such.
I think we'll take in a show on Friday, and then spend Saturday cooking
pies. And then church on Sunday, of course.
ap
========================================================================
Date: Fri, 10 Dec 93 15:40:31 EST
From: <WHIPLASH@LIBALPS.NODE>
Subject: infested with your love juice
To: Donkey
well, i'm hear. id is funny the hat alice moe mensa ha hove ma ah hee
life have brought me here to atlanta. isn't that shit annoying, the
line above i mean (not above this line, but the one above the line above
the line above this line, ah it just goes on and on praise be to god the
most high especially in the yuletide season and you'd better git your
chrissmuss shopping done because that's the only thing standing in the
way of christ getting separated from his agony for all men--he died not
for our sins but that he might vicariously enjoy our pleasures through
quantum wormholes and THAT'S ENOUGH GODDAMNIT, SHUT IT OFF NOW! but no,
you can bet your ass this shit ain't goin' nowheres cause i mades da
world and when i made it i had two hits of blotter in me the other night
and the beggin' for salvation trip on your hands and knees comes highly
recommended.
goddamnit.
so. in case you didn't realize, this is robert holder, and it's great
to be back in town folks in lovely ATLANTA, GEORGIA! Give yourselves a
big hand! We've got a great show comin' up for you! We've got Tom
Hanks Ladies and Gentlemen! Ice Cube! And Musical Guest Adolf Hitler!
It's a really great show! There's gonna be some World Shakin', Luke!
So "Stay Tuned"!
Cause Sometimes Nothin' Is a Real Cool Hand,
robert holder
=========================================================
Date: Sat, 11 Dec 1993 14:55:22 -0500 (EST)
Subject: Brent
Sender: Now more accessible than ever! <BCPALMER>
To: Donkey
Steve Venturino, temporary member of this list, riding this donkey in this
fashion, still riding the donkey somewhere else and somehow else, Steve
V.
said to me, "You should write about *your* experiences".
Okay then. Here are some true things about me, I have several scabs and
burns
on my arm from the last time I tried to cook. Fascinating, isn't it?
Um, I'm terrified of pharmacists. Why do they have to be so damn high?
Why
do they have to be up there looking down?
Uh, I spend most days wishing I was in another universe where I made different
choices, even though I'd be equally miserable ...
Ahhhhhgghhh, See?!!! This is a Pity Party and who of you could not pity
your-
selves. Forgive me. But I can only write about me if I write what I remember.
Which isn't much.
Who are you guys again?
Brent "ashamed in several interesting ways" <Pollux>
=========================================================
Date: Sat, 11 Dec 1993 14:38:50 -0500 (EST)
Subject: Epiphany [Please Read -- Everybody!]
Sender: Now more accessible than ever! <BCPALMER>
To: Donkey
You guys,
Let me just take a moment to drop out of any .net persona and say, what
was
the deal with that BEE-L person forwarding mail from a government source?
As a member of the DNC, and delegate to the last National Convention, I
wonder whether I should bring it to the attention of the DNC (Democratic
National Committee) that people are using other people to access my and
your security files. Sure, the person didn't name names, (that we *know*
of), but given the small number of us on BEE-L, the finger-pointing was
pretty limited.
I am shocked into believing most of everything Foss ever wrote.
And I am home alone with the baby today, with the wife out of town,
glad I can put sentences together, but barely functioning.
I think I'll send this note to BEE-L and then UNSUB, so they know
that matters of privacy, undecided in the interpretation of the
United States Constitution, and matters of just common ethics are
at stake. I think they should also know that just because I am a
donkey, that I also have serious problems which made a government-backed
insult, albeit true, a bit too much for me to bear today.
I really would like an apology from the person who thought it would
be funny to have the government investigate us and me. It's really
a rather extreme gesture.
What do you all think, ladies and gentlemen? At the very least, I am
calling the Social Security office first thing Monday morning. And I
am keeping that note with the anonymous government source.
Well, spring is here in a big way, I guess. The ultimate enemy punches
me in the face. I guess I played the fool/Hermie after all.
Brent <Pollux>
00bcpalmer
=============================================================
Date: Sun, 12 Dec 1993 09:24:01 -0500 (EST)
Subject: Chemically Balanced, and with Useful Information
Sender: Now more accessible than ever! <00bcpalmer>
To: Donkey
Dear Gents and Ladies,
Sorry that the cheese slipped off my cracker momentarily. Remind me
not to sit at the computer next time *that* happens! *blush* (Although
I must admit part of me was laughing at myself, or rather what was *not*
myself. Allison, white people just don't get all gushy like that.)
Anyway, to prove my sanity, I've decided to take up a new vice -- cigars.
And in case any of you women want to join me, here is a chart of the size
cigar to buy according to *your* size. I'm a "football player"
Churchill.
HEIGHT WEIGHT CIGAR
6' 175 lbs Long Panatelas
5'10" 160 lbs. Lonsdale
5'10" 170 lbs. Corona Grande
5'7" - 5'9" 150 lbs. Corona
5'5" - 6' 170 lbs. Rothchild/Corona Extra
5'5" - 6' 180 lbs. Belicoso/Torpedo/Pyramid
5'7" - 6' 190 lbs. Churchill
6' 200+ lbs. Double Corona
Thank you. Thank you very much.
Brent <Pollux> 00bcpalmer
=============================================================
Date: Mon, 13 Dec 1993 12:39:29 -0500 (EST)
Subject: Blurb-O-Matic
Sender: Now more accessible than ever! <00bcpalmer>
To: Donkey
Discussion of Discussible (sp?) Discussionisms
Fact and Lore on the Hee-Hawing Animal
Discussion of Thing-a-ma-bobs and other Thingees
It's Army vs. Navy In the Superbowl of Life
Discussion of Truisms, Falsisms, and Jisms
Hoo Boy Have You Found The Right List For You!
Subscribers Will Not Be Tolerated, Et Tu?
Veiled Discussions of Honeypots and Long Johns
Post Neo-New Ways of Schminking
Discussion of Foss Worship, Tod and Verkalung
Bee Biology
Discussion of the "Laundromat" where we get "Clean"
Argh! These be my submissions! Ayamwhattayam! Brent <Pirate>
=============================================================
Date: Tue, 14 Dec 1993 15:03:54 -0500 (EST)
Subject: I'm In Control Here
Sender: Now more accessible than ever! <00bcpalmer>
To: Donkey
What is this fluff about EJ being responsible for the BEE-L invasion?
I take full and complete responsibility, because it was my idea, and
who is going to tell me it wasn't? I fried Koresh too. And I bugged the
Watergate Hotel. And I killed Jesus Christ. So there. Oh yeah, and *I*
shot Mary Jo Buttafuoco.
On another, less stridex note, my wife was given a talking to by her boss'
boss, that would be the associate provost. The associate provost is a woman
who really likes my wife. She promised her a raise in July and hinted that
my wife would eventually become Associate Provost. Seriously. Etc.
What this means is that you all will have to put up with me as I am, forever.
I am now a kept man. My wife is always travelling out-of-town. But without
the extra "l". I must watch over our baby. Someone has to. I
spoke to my
SS caseworker today and he said results for sure around Jan 15.
You guys are my only friends. I have decided to eliminate all my "real"
friends that I have ever had, and adopt y'all as my official friends.
I'll try to get an "You are my Official Friend" certificate out
to you
after the first of the year. Sorry Foss, but you are too much the wondersaint.
You overqualify as my friend, you are too such-a-work-is-man-ish.
We are going to buy a house and live here until we die.
Brent "Casino Reno" <Pollux>
=========================================================
Date: Tue, 14 Dec 1993 15:47:00 -0500 (EST)
From: <LIBWCA>
Subject: Re: I'm In Control Here (fwd)
To: Donkey
>Yes, Brent did suggest the list BEE-L, but I egged him on. And it
>took a LOT of eggs. Oh, ROCHester...
>
>And, uh, I killed both Kennedys. OK?
>
>EJ
No, that was me. We are speaking here, are we not, of Young Joe and
Katherine?
In any case - I feel slightly put upon. I, too, imposed myself upon
the apicultural community in an unspeakably brazen manner, little
realizing how sensitive and easily flustered such people, by nature,
are. Is. I, too, committed vile, unforgivable breeches of net mores,
forcing poor, defenseless insect-studying guys and gals to read as
many as three different fifteen-line posts, some of them in Aramaic
script, although it was hard to tell that. Why wasn't I bombarded
with hate mail? Why were my superior officers not notified, so that
I might be subjected to the firm but loving correction so long absent
in my personal life?
Had Melanie Willis been an actual Inquiring Mind, my response to her
could have set the world of apiculture back twenty years. Why was
this fact not acknowledged?
Am considering litigation. Details to follow.
Malibu Skipper
=============================================================
Date: Wed, 15 Dec 1993 09:55:00 -0500 (EST)
Subject: The Subject
Sender: Now more accessible than ever! <00bcpalmer>
To: Donkey
Minimalism!
Perhaps our new DONKEY(-L) list topic should be an haiku.
Here are a few suggestions
I.
the reed in the wind
empty words and empty roads
hollow, grasshopper
II.
Grab the 409
make the oven shine brightly
the toaster, smiling
III.
Shhh! Be vewwee, vew-
wee quiet, I am hunting
wabbits, butterfly
IV.
disconnected by
phone lines on planet without
a sense of humor
V.
cherry blossom, dew
shine big and bright, clap-clap-clap-
clap, deep in the heart
VI.
opening the jar
Wallace Stevens left for us
smelling the urine
VII.
Shogun's sandals, dust
attendant sliding the wall
we, behind paper
VIII.
This is getting old.
This is getting really old.
Fellowship With Men.
b<pollux>
========================================================================
Date: Fri, 17 Dec 1993 00:45:33 -0400 (EDT)
From: Lesser <LESSER>
Subject: What Eye do when Eye'm not me
To: Donkey
A brief update on the impending genesis of a new list, as channelled through
an
ultimately worthy vessel:
I spoke with several individuals by phone, seeking counsel and assistance
regarding the creation of The List.
Basically, without tedious detail, joe provo and I discussed the pros and
cons of setting up a list at MIT.EDU. The major con is that the type of
list that could be set up there would not really be geared to a high volume
of activity; so we thought about the idea of creating the main list at
another site, and then setting up a meta-list at this one.
Looking to see how that sounded to another set of ears - and also seeking
to
reconcile myself with LIBALP after a few personal gaffs on my part - I
called
GA to see what he thought of the above idea. Now, Arthur, being a sensible
sort, remarked that having a second list seemed a bit superflous and smacked
of
elitism - defeating the anarchic/chaotic nature of the beast - besides
creating
possible confusion among list members as to what had been posted where;
therefore, my grand idea was a little bit like putting tits on a bullfrog.
(Ok, that isn't what ALP really said, but rather the stylized gist of it.)
Then he had to get back to his Julia Child routine, as he was preparing
to
entertain a woman this evening in his new pad. (A woman, I might add, who
I'm
sure he met at church last Sunday morning.)
Next call was to zeek in Texas, to discuss the possibility of him procuring
a site at UT for our use. Well, in the course of our conversation and
discussion of various options, he suggested that some contacts at Steve
Jackson Games might be willing to grant us the use of a couple of accounts
on their machine for our list; in fact, this would be a project they'd
probably even be interested in helping foster. A list at the site Illuminati
Organization - what more could you ask for, eh? So, zeek is following up
on this, and said he'd get back to me within the day or so. This looks
like
a very promising possibility.
The bottom line is that there will be a list, in the spirit of the SBRYM-L
and the once-proud FNORD-L, a forum to traumatize the ignorant and experiment
with chaos. With the holidays approaching, things will be slowing down
online,
so I plan to give this a proper launch with the New Year; though I'd like
the
list to be functioning before then, to give you droogs a chance to break
it in
before the crowds show up.
My plans are to make directed announcements of the creation of the list
at the
beginning of January, possibly with an as-yet-unformulated attention getting
event. (To be thought out in advance; any ideas?) When the crowds show
up,
I may post selected goodies from my vaults to set the tone, and perhaps
even
get a few special guests in for the grand opening. (Remember Robert McEwlane?
Well, he's still online, and I have his address on file... Maybe Cecil
could
be convinced to come out of retirement, or a new character might be born..
And
DAF, if you could take a break from your silence, maybe you could christen
this
child [or would a briss be more appropriate?] with your holy water/scalpel.)
We'll pull out the stops, dance naked on the tables, and make some noise.
We'll do it for Johnny!!!
Whattya say?
As promised, this thing will be online before Christmas, with a Grand Opening
in the first week or so of January. I write this into the Law, and so it
mote
be.
Yours (if you'll have him),
Noddy
p.s. Malibu, baby, you're crashing my soul on the beach, leaving me senseless
on the shore, in the break of your prose....
=========================================================
Date: Fri, 17 Dec 1993 09:14:38 -0500 (EST)
Subject: Missiona and Manifesto: PRAVDA-L
Sender: Now more accessible than ever! <BCPALMER>
To: Donkey
Come Join the Fun on PRAVDA-L!
We invite you to our January Grand-Opening Bash, Spectacular and on-line
Rave!
Why would *you* want to join PRAVDA-L???
*Because* |Symbols| originate in the here and now!
|We don't just manipulate symbols|, we create and recreate them!
*Because* |We don't just manipulate symbols|, we interpret and reinterpret
*Them!!!* |Symbols| (When Fresh) Are Powerful!!!
*Because* |Weber's| Cycle of Meaningfulness!!!!!
and as a special bonus:
|How symbols| originate (not historical!)
|New symbols| are constructed
|Old symbols| are created
and!!!!!!
|When looking at symbolic thought| you must look at
|the emotional as well as the| rational !!!!!!!
who could forget?
|Symbols| are a remnant of the original mind
So be there or be sybolically square, at the PRAVDA-L Grand Opening sponsored
by Scott Lesser and the Symbolists (pre post neo sub)
[This post is presented as a tribute to my friend, Doc Foss. Luv ya Doc!]
Thank you. Thank you very much.
Brent <Pollux>
00bcpalmer
"Ex umbris et imaginibus in veritatem [From shadows and symbols into
the
truth]!" -- John Henry Cardinal Newman, his own epitaph at Edg[EJ]baston.
no enc
=========================================================
Date: Fri, 17 Dec 1993 10:29:04 -0500 (EST)
Subject: Ciao Goaty
Sender: Now more accessible than ever! <BCPALMER>
To: Donkey
Hello, The Various Few,
Daniel Kobialka has composed a new age piece I am listening to, and this
is
supposed to be relaxing. You are all so silent this morning, except those
various fewer of you who truly love me. Anyway, I can't relax listening
to
this piece "Timeless Motion" because it is the "I love what
you do for me,
Toyota" theme over-and-over and over-and-over, albeit in that "unwound
sound"
kind of way.
Please do not say New Age is Sew Age or "New Age Sux," because
I already know
this as surely as I know that jeweled unicorns run to join the gilded hearse.
That's Eliot, mind you. I'm more of a "wild wielding of Occam's Razor"
kind of
guy. Anyway, how to everyone. How to Mel, a public how.
Not a werecat nor was meant to be,
B the <P>
half a twin
00bcpalmer
=========================================================
To: Donkey
From: <EJFORD>
Date: 17 Dec 93 11:31:38 EDT
Subject: HEY!
EJ Says: Round praises are extended to graduate BIG MEL!
Monday will be my Big Email Day. Afreeman and I are going to Ye
Olde Office Christmas Party <tm>, at which, she will be a cherubic
substitute for Santa. As always, I will be Scrooge Lite <r>.
See you mugs on Monday, or a rude approximation thereof.
------- Forwarded Message Follows -------
Date: Fri, 17 Dec 93 10:17:03 CST
From: Melanie Willis <GS0383>
Subject: HEY!
In-Reply-To: note of 12/17/93 10:11
To: <<EJFORD>>
HEY!! It's Friday and for the first time since f-----g January I have
no homework whatsof---gever!!!! So come one, do something, lets
get into trouble or something - I'm bored!! I can play email all
day today. I may even have time how to figure out how to do
a distribution list so I won't have to ask Scott to post for me.
I'm ready for trouble today . . . . I don't have to be home till
midnight tonight either. Mom (the official babysitter of the little
boo) has given me the OK and I'm outta town tonight. And I'm
a real college graduate as of yesterday or whenever I find my
overdue library book about the experience of time. Time Time Time
Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
Creeps in its petty pace
You know the rest
Melanie
=========================================================
To: Donkey
From: <EJFORD>
Date: 17 Dec 93 11:27:02 EDT
Subject: A correction.
In my post of this morning, entitled "Hey!," please replace the
verb "to kill" with the gangland verb "to cowboy."
I feel better, now.
EJ
=========================================================
Date: Fri, 17 Dec 1993 11:24:15 -0500 (EST)
Subject: A serious Query
Sender: Now more accessible than ever! <BCPALMER>
To: Donkey
Perhaps you have seen the sparkly buttons which say "HO HO HO MY ASS".
I would seriously like to know if anyone has a clus as to what this means,
or
what the people who made this button were thinking. Perhaps they weren't,
but
I'd like to give them some credit. Coming from Irish farmer white-trash
stock
myself, I think I deserve to be "in on" this joke.
Somebody please explain.
the inimitable and chatty Brent <Pollux>
00bcpalmer
"Nobody shoots at Santa Claus" -- Al Smith, _Campaign Speeches_
(1928)
=========================================================
Date: Fri, 17 Dec 1993 17:30:18 -0400 (EDT)
From: scott lesser <LESSER>
Subject: ...and then Melanie says, Relax, don't do it - when you want to...
To:Donkey
Subject: what's up
Sender: Melanie Willis <GS0383>
To: LESSER <LESSER@>
Hi Scott - will you post for me sometime? I'll figure this out soon. Really.
In the meantime, thank you very much.
Here I go and make a sincere request for attention today, because I have
nothing to do, and not a one of you responds! EJ and Allison had a party
to go
to, but what's with the rest of you? This machine hasn't been so dead for
weeks! What's up? Maybe there's something wrong with the listserver or
mailmaker or whatever the hell it is is out there that spins these things
through the air.
So are you Christmas shopping right now? Are you all getting ready to go
to
office parties? Holidays are nice now and then but does anyone really want
to
see the in-laws? who likes saying "thanks" for a gift from their
boss (even if
you like the gift and the boss, it is still pretty damn embarrassing, if
you
ask me.) I don't know. I guess I feel like I'm talking to myself because
nobody's been there all day.
Allison, I'd put that girl's name and number in the personals. Give her
life a
little lift. Say: "Looking for a big guy, a manly man, a stud, none
of you
damn bookreaders or tie-wearers, just a good solid hunk o man who doesn't
talk
much. Call me." And then put her number. But revenge never pays off
except in
the movies, you know; if she did get what was coming to her then you'd
probably end up feeling sorry for her and then what? You feel bad but in
a
different way. What the hell's the difference? Rage is better than guilt
in my
scale of preferred emotions.
Well, hope you all wished me a happy graduation and please, prayers for
my
lost book
=======================================================================
Date: Sun, 19 Dec 93 11:02:03 EST
From: "Daniel A. Foss" <DFOSS@CCVM.sunysb.edu>
Organization: State University of New York at Stony Brook
Subject: what is going on on account of nothing is coming in
To: Donkey
Message-Id: <931219.110203.EST.DFOSS@ccvm.sunysb.edu>
Gentlemen and Highborn Ladies:
No posting whatever has reached this ACCT, I do not exist at this time,
with no explanation known to the operator of this computer whose name is
MACH3. This room still has no windows. I cannot state with any assurance
the duration in time units for which my incarceration has already served
toward my debt to society. Debt to Medical-Industrial Complex however paid
in full as of last week; threat to have Emilio Esteban seize my implants
for
shooting of Repo Man II withdrawn; own my Implants free & clear rendering
me
in accordance with this hitech/official-looking card, plastic, before me
at
this time and henceforth an official cardcarrying cyborg; on account of
Implands, plastic, one per eyeball, in perpetuity, to outlast corporeal
body and go to heaven, more likely other location, upon decease pending
noncremation OR: highly recommended donation to Medical Science should
technologies in interim develop to point of permitting reusal.
To pay bill (a small pittance compared to what already had been paid long
before) of $3000 there was necessitated severe budget cuts in food area;
there
has already been "belt-tightening." In Africa and South America
name for this
is "structural adjustment."
I am indeed on FLN LIST, as are you fine people, all. But no postings.
Whilst composing current message, have done TELL LISTSERV AT ICINECA SET
FLN
MAIL and SET FLN REPRO; nothing. Except for usual ACK.
Is this anything you did? Not nice to torture old retard or throw rocks
at
the old Crazy; but is known scientifically to be quite Normal. To do else
gets
deviance points from psychometricians. Yet still & all, come onnnnnnnnnnnnnnn.
Yours till demise (and subsequent dollar appreciation of Foss postings),
Daniel A. Foss
Member, Council of Elders,
Council of the Areopagus,
Senate of the Roman Republic,
Board of Ephors.
From: "Daniel A. Foss" <DFOSS@ccvm.sunysb.edu>
Organization: State University of New York at Stony Brook
Subject: finally got around to making my own listlet
To: Donkey
Message-Id: <931230.153700.EST.DFOSS@ccvm.sunysb.edu>
This is all the names there was room for in a CMS Names file List Of Names
field. Sorry I was too lazy to get around to do even that little bit. Survey
of hardcopy of postings from previous two-week period proves that I can
no
longer post anything without enormous Overdoses of the prescription stuff
plus corresponding quantities of NoDoz such that the results turn out psychotic
and, what feels worse to me, having to lie around like a cauliflower for
that
much more prolonged a period. I am herewith retiring from the list posting
business permanently. To present company, who never did worse to me than
"bemused contempt," I shall however stick to you like a lamprey
for solace
in my old age.
Yours till the rivers shall cease to run in herds across the plains,
Daniel A. Foss
=========================================================
Date: Tue, 21 Dec 1993 11:29:33 -0500 (EST)
Subject: Re: Query
Sender: Now more accessible than ever! <BCPALMER>
To: Donkey
A Reader Writes:
>That Zeek fella, and that other'n, Scotto. Who's side are they on,
>anyway? I mean, I keep getting nice mail from the both of 'em.
_About A gentleman I Met At The Grocers_ by Angel Webster
I'm not afraid of anything alive.
I'm afraid of ideas.
I'm afraid of government.
I'm afraid of inanimate objects.
If he's going to call me a "bitch,"
He's not going to do anything about it.
It's the silent people who's gonna stab you in the back.
Am I an upstanding, moral citizen who loves everybody?
Who the fuck can say that?
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>gt;>>>>
NOTES from Pollux:
Zeek is too friendly, almost inanimate as death.
Foss takes *too* much of an interest in catalysis when we fall into a slight
silence ...
Fear them. And Fear the Reaper.
Brent <Pollux> @heart.of.the.big.city
=========================================================
Date: Tue, 21 Dec 1993 14:13:34 -0500 (EST)
Subject: Farewell Address
Sender: Now more accessible than ever! <BCPALMER>
To: Donkey
The flower of me begins to fade, friends and loved ones,
I will look forward to catching up on news when I arrive back from California
in mid-January. I will see Wanda Plunkett, the cult leader, who jokes about
"Omar the Tentmaker" making her dresses; I will have begun the
nasty habit
of smoking cigars and/or pipe. Perhaps new vices will satisfy me, and I
will
not need your bliss in the same way. Hello Birdie.
Yet expect, nay, know, the flower will blossom again in mid-january, and
you
will hear my voice on FLN, dear Foss, and perhaps the ultra-kind zeek will
be
among us. And perhaps I will look at yu
<-- what happened here?
And perhaps I will look at you. Hello Birdie.
Actually, I expect to stay involved in the conversations beyond the Xmas
day,
actually, up until the 28th. Hello Birdie.
But I thought I'd get this farewell address out-of-the-way.
Thank you very much. Hello Birdie.
Hello Birdie.
Brent "Not waving, Robert Browning" <Pollux>
=========================================================
Date: Tue, 21 Dec 1993 16:35:43 -0500 (EST)
From: <LIBWCA>
Subject: Re: Sleep not necessary to human survival, research shows (fwd)
To: Donkey
>Uh, Malibu?
>
>You smoke?
>
>OMIGOD!
>
>I take back every nice thing I said about you.
>
>EJ
Not responsible.
Park and lock it.
I'm an artist, damn it. I have to be granted a certain amount of
latitude, or I'll go entirely over the edge, and where would society
be then, huh? Huh?
You can't take them back, anyway, because then you'd be an Indian giver.
We can't tolerate Indian givers, as they aren't made of people, and thus
lack any intrinsic connection with the brilliant 1973 science fiction
thriller _Soylent Green_, starring Charlton Heston and, in his last
major motion picture appearance, the great Edward G. Robinson.
Expand and discuss.
Malibu Skipper
=========================================================
To: Donkey
From: <EJFORD>
Date: 21 Dec 93 17:04:06 EDT
Subject: Indian Givers and Artists; Soylent Green Critique
True, I have been described as an Indian Giver from time to time.
No, I take that back, I have NEVER been described as an Indian Giver,
and I resent the implication that the Gentleman from the Great State
of Georgia is an artist. Mind you, his work has demonstrated
artistic merrit in the past. Further, his efforts to develop snappy
things to say to both Beekeepers and Linguists clearly indicates the
natural aethetic ability often associated with artists. And, I will
concede, few have that BOHO appearance down to the extent that Our
Man at Emory does.
But, he don't got no goddamn NEA grant, do he? Well, DO HE?
As to the subject of this post, Soylent Green is only interesting
insofar as it allows people to this day to make obscure references to
it. Later, Malibu and I will be making references to Huey, Dewey,
and Louie from Silent Running.
EJ "Mr. Obscure SF Reference" Ford
PS: Just for them guys at Emory: "Friends call me heat miser/ 'cause
whatever I touch/ starts to melt in my clutch./ I'm TOO MUCH. Too
much!" I love that one...
PPS: I WILL be doing the 'Tard at Allison's wedding. I will expect
everyone else in attendence to also 'Tard. There will be no
exceptions.
=========================================================
Date: Tue, 21 Dec 1993 17:04:23 -0400 (EDT)
From: scott lesser <LESSER>
Subject: SHOCKING NEWS!
To:Donkey
Bill?
About that withered head of Dan Boyd that you so prominently display on
your
mantle...
In researching the current addresses of old SBRYHMers, to include them
on my
buzz list to hype the new list [huh, what list?] when it finally crystalizes,
I
made an unnerving discovery:
Dan Boyd was not really Dan Boyd...
[Insert dramatic pause]
He was a woman named JENNIFER BAILEY!
=========================================================
To: Donkey
From: <EJFORD>
Date: 22 Dec 93 08:03:54 EDT
Subject: Re: SHOCKING NEWS!
Oh, my God! The indignity of it all! Genderbending Cyberpunks on
the net! Lascivious women disguised as robust and hearty men!
Perverse men disguised as sultry and seductive women!
Isn't This the Sort of Thing that Got Sodom and Gamorrah (not the
giant turtle) in Big Trouble with the Big J?
Well, regardless, I really wanted to buzz in and say hello to all of
our military friends looking in over Armed Forces Radio Networks
around the World. Bob Hope will be on later to entertain you
hardworking Men (and even a few Women) who keep this great land of
ours free from the tyrany of other countries that are not already
firmly in the pocket of Corporate Imperialism <tm>. Yes, from the
makers of the Chilean Government <tm>, we bring youu live, from the
Glamorous Las Vegas Strip,
THE FNORD-L EXILE VIRTUAL CHRISTMAS PARTY
Here's a glimpse at the fine entertainment we will have today:
I will be doing more of this.
EJ "Pass me that bottle. And, mind your own business." Ford
PS: I have the Skiminigoos. Ask me how you can get them!
=========================================================
Date: Wed, 22 Dec 1993 13:59:02 -0500 (EST)
From: <LIBWCA>
Subject: Re: Waitaminute!
To: Donkey
The Cobra Conspires:
>Why don't we take this opportunity to tell Corey what we REALLY think
>of EJ. Bash his head to the rocks in the tidal wave of his reality.
Corey? I thought it was Beany, or something suitably appropos, whatever
that means. Anyway, whatever your name is, I think EJ is a fine example
of whatever it is he's supposed to be an example of, and I assure you
that I have absolutely no intention of bashing his head in without suitable
monetary recompense. I am not, however, real. On the basis of extensive
research, I believe myself to be a figment of EJ's imagination and, it
now
seems, yours. You might want to see somebody about this, as I can be a
very
annoying figment and have actually induced mild-to-moderate paranoia in
several recent cases. Merry merry ho-ho-ho, as they say.
Malibu Skipper
=========================================================
Date: Wed, 22 Dec 1993 14:46:10 -0500 (EST)
Subject: To EJ's Wife
Sender: Now more accessible than ever! <BCPALMER>
To: Donkey
Wow! A pleasure to meet you!
Do you realize that if all of us were the Beatles, *you* would be married
to *Ringo Starr* ??!!
Really, that is most impressive, as most of the gang here are, collectively,
George Harrison, but EJ is the one and only Ringo.
I haven't decided whether Foss, what with the "Foss is dead"
scare of '93,
(just play my posts backwards), whether Foss is Paul McCartney, the lyrical,
or the humping-on-the-same-note Lennon. Perhaps Foss is Lennon & McCartney.
I, of course, am Yoko ... the Lesser would be Brian Epstein, and our very
own George Martin is, indeed, "what's in that pipe, Santa?"
My own obscure SF reference.
I am, officially, not here, by the way. Hmmm ... maybe that makes *me*
Lennon.
B. <p>
"How much for the Hal Doll?"
========================================================================
Date: Wed, 22 Dec 93 12:07:24 EST
From: Arthur Parker <LIBALP>
Subject: IMAGINE MY SURPRISE
To: Donkey
There I was, halfway through _Soylent Green_, when I decided to
take a break and check my email. Ah, to hell with it. And anyway
Bill, GR90210 did it much better, remember?
Indeed, I am too much. I'm Mr. Heat Miser/ I'm Mr. Hundred-and-one.
Crazy....
regards,
ap
Contents of this post:
7g fat
5 handfuls sodium
grapes
1 stick butter-colored wax
moxie
Served in Enchanted Ovaltine Mug, inherited from M. Cheating, who
visited me in my lack of sleep last night, still incomprehensible.
========================================================================
Date: Wed, 22 Dec 1993 12:49:54 -0500 (EST)
Sender: LIBWCA
Subject: IMAGINE HIS SURPRISE
To: Donkey
Easy for you to say, Parker. You aren't working. You're a member of
the decadent leisure-class running-dog bourgeoisie, and you don't
count, pal. History will show you a creature of darkness, and your
foul stench will be expunged from human memory; consigned to the darker
corners of the collective id, you'll become a shadow for the frightening
of incontinent children. You'll get yours at Armaggedon, Parker, and
I'll carry your head through the gates of heaven on a stick. I'd go
on, but you know the drill. Merry Christmas, thou malignant toad.
WHEN WE RETURN we'll be speaking with Jennifer Bailey, aging one-time
avatar of the entirely fictional but oh-so-dead Daniel Boyd. Harvey
Keitel will be joining us, and award-winning author Bill Anderson may
or may not continue his enthralling saga of surf punks adrift at the
center of the earth. Rob Holder is here. Stay tuned.
Malibu Skipper
Off to Celebrate Things I Don't Believe In
========================================================================
37
Date: Thu, 23 Dec 93 11:02:33 EST
From: <LIBALP>
Subject: TO THE KITCHEN ALREADY YOU RANKLE ME
To: Donkey
You and your eggs and your phony "existence". Har! (tm)
We here at Mister Bedroom's House of Boudoir send all available
greetings to all wives of EJ "Queen for Life" Ford. He is a fine
young man who has proven his acumen in both the food service and
housekeeping industries. He looks like a badger and smells like
a badger's best friend. He hates Dan Boyd without even knowing it.
He spills things. Cheats at Lite Brite. Leaves the milk out.
Can't get enough "gully gully gully". Screws trees. But mainly,
he puts the "hi" back in "whimsy".
Happy Holidays. Happy Holidays. Happy Holidays. Happy Holidays.
regards,
ap
=========================================================
Date: Thu, 23 Dec 1993 08:49:11 -0500 (EST)
Subject: Me in Drag, by the way <fwd from FNL>
Sender: Now more accessible than ever! <BCPALMER>
To: Donkey
From: IN%"eumaeus@aol.com" 23-DEC-1993 08:46:21.34
To: IN%"00BCPALMER" "B. Clark Palmer"
Subj: RE: News from Listowner
Date: Thu, 23 Dec 1993 08:43:17 -0500 (EST)
From: eumaeus@AOL.COM
Subject: RE: News from Listowner
Sender: Figurative Language Network <FLN@ICINECA.BITNET>
To: "B. Clark Palmer" <00BCPALMER>
First of all, I would like to say to the young man that told me to "go
to
hell" that I forgive him. My function is forgiveness, as the Course
in
Miracles teaches!
Second, thank *goodness* that G77BOQR1@ came riding over the hill like
the three wise men to save the proverbial day! I, for one, shall be glad
when
we return to the values and ideals for which reason this list was sent
forth
to Earth from God. "Cristina" -- You are appropriately named!
Heavens be praised and may the shepherds tremble!
Hanny Hokanson
Internet: Eumaeus@aol.com
=============================================================
Date: Tue, 28 Dec 1993 10:12:13 -0500 (EST)
Subject: I Hear C3PO A-Comin'
Sender: Now more accessible than ever! <00bcpalmer>
To: Donkey
As many of you know, C3PO, the gold, faggish robot of Star Wars fame, was
fluent in over 4,000,000 forms of communication.
My wife, golden-haired Georgian, Kim Basinger, will, in the file that follows
say "goodbye" in the 3,653,013 ways which C3PO will be channeling
through her.
Sincerely,
Sir Alec Baldwin
=========================================================
To: Donkey
From: <EJFORD>
Date: 23 Dec 93 13:41:52 EDT
Subject: What? Xmas? Are you kidding?
Well, just imagine me reclining by the fire, covered in shredded
wrapping paper and waiting for the elf roasting on the spit to get
done. Yes, it's X-mas, and I am hoping to get everything I ask for
this year, including some gifts for you mugs.
Arthur and Bill: Your gift is in the mail. It comes in a package
labeled "to: Young Master Bill Anderson"
Scott: a bed. Yes, a bed to rest your weary head while vacationing
in the sunny state of Florida.
Dana: Rob Holder. Hope he arrived OK.
Rob Holder: Mighty Merciful Lee Dickens. Have fun. He takes D-cells.
Bill: Tampa, FL. There will be no exchanges.
Cynthia: What, you're ALREADY getting a kid?!?
Melanie: You're a college graduate. You don't need any other gifts
<hee hee>.
EEGAH!: I am sending you a pair of swift typing hands so we can see
more of you online!
DR. Foss: Hope the holidays find you well. The sweater will be
there as soon as the sheep finish making the wool.
JOEPROVO: Have a wonderful Holiday! Hope Scott stays away from your
home, as per the restraining order.
B<P> Many happy returns, despite the fact you can't come to Florida
(see you sometime soon, the Cobra tells me... Send the Photo SOON).
Notker Babulus: Merry X-Mas, despite the fact that I still have no
clue as to your identity.
The Cobra gets sand and coal, as usual.
And, I think that's it! We Miss you a Hairy Chris Moose!
THIS JUST IN FROM THE wIFE:
ahem. Hello. All of you sound like intelligent and fascinating
people, and it's a pleasure to meet you via the screen. I also look
forward to meeting you in person at the Cobra's wedding in January,
and we'll be happy to put up anyone for the weekend (I gotta check
with the cats, though). Whatever EJ told you all about me...don't
believe it. Not a word. The boy is given to delusions at times. He
starts Librium after the holidays, and the doctor has high hopes.
By the way, EJ, I wish you'd stop referring to me as "the wife."
I
am the Egg Man, and you know it. Koo koo ka choo.
THE WIFE, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE... er, egg man...
MERRY HOHO!
"Have a Cool Yule! Like, Later, Man... DIG?!?" --- Tony Rodell
Larson
EJ "Stick a FORK in him" Ford
=========================================================
Date: Thu, 23 Dec 1993 12:57:16 -0400 (EDT)
From: scott lesser <LESSER>
Subject: RE: FIRE SALE!!!
To: Donkey
One writer reads:
>I'll be going soon, but I couldn't help observe that a reader writes:
>[a reader who said he would be writing *exclusively* moi during this
season!]
I thought about that for a while yesterday, and decided that I would round
out
the holiday saison by writing exclusively to the Brent *in each of us*.
Let yourself be larger than the sum of your corpeal being and ego, my friend.
Eggs taste better that way and cause less undue irritation.
Brent C. Palmer
b<snl>
=============================================================
Date: Tue, 28 Dec 93 09:12:57 EST
From: <LIBALP>
Subject: AH, SWEET FOOD IN TUBES
To: Donkey
Here: Tube Fruitcake for everyone!
Good news, Brent. Afterlife babes enjoy nothing so much as a rousing
game of "Hello Tokyo"! They never ever get tired of it. They'll
come
and wake you up in the middle of the night and ask to play. They'll
seek repeated explanations of the rules. They want to partake of
every nuance. Everytime is like the first-- for them. For you, it'll be
fun
at first, and then grow increasingly tiresome, and finally intolerable.
Because you see, they're in heaven, but you're in hell. I'm your host,
Art Linkletter; that's my nickname because that's what I do, art. No, I
mean linkletter. Whatever. Bite the wax tadpole. Eat it raw.
ap
=============================================================
Date: Tue, 28 Dec 93 10:41:18 EST
From: <LIBALP>
Subject: KNEW YOUR FATHER I DID
To:Donkey
youdonotyetknowthepowerofthedarksideofthemoonriverwiderthanamileforacamel
That camel was the best fuck I ever had, too, he said, in a tone of
obligatory comedy contentment.
Okay, what the hell, it was, like, a space camel or some shit, getoffa
me
already. "Space camel it was; big celestial hump it had. Retained
water it did, know you. Cut it open to keep warm we did. Attacked
by Bouncing Bumble were we. Found god in a grain of sand we did. Melted
Him down for the glass we did. Got our deposit back, say I."
ap
========================================================================
From: "Daniel A. Foss" <DFOSS@ccvm.sunysb.edu>
Organization: State University of New York at Stony Brook
Subject: squunched in another couple of names
To: Donkey
Message-Id: <931230.161348.EST.DFOSS@ccvm.sunysb.edu>
Ohhhhh. Computers can be finagled with so. Have managed to squunch in Brent
Palmer; also by using "willis," melanie's long-unused (because
she is now
presumed to despise me so) nickname in walled-up entry in NAMES file, can
now include Robt Holder's name in the List of Names field on that "page."
Computers is such wonderful toys; coulda used one for a holiday gift if
I'd'a been Caligula and they'd caught me in time.
Must be smart people, what use these computery thingies.
Daniel A. Foss
& my widdle fwiend,
Cecil, under new ownership
========================================================================
From: "Daniel A. Foss" <DFOSS@ccvm.sunysb.edu>
Organization: State University of New York at Stony Brook
Subject: growing lengthwise if not of course personally
To: Donkey
Message-Id: <931230.164711.EST.DFOSS@ccvm.sunysb.edu>
Cecil has reminded me that Brent may be BITNETted; which leaves most of
the line of the List Of Names entry (there are four of these on the "page")
free for Allison Freeman, or whatever her name is these days. 30% of US
women, I'm told, now retain "maiden" names postnuptially. Which
leaves who
or whom to fill out rest of Melanie Willis' disused page, excepting only
the listing for Robt Holder? Notker Babalus, but who are the rest of these
people?
Hadn't ya orter launch a recruiting drive? After all, if you have got
a culture war on, and you are going to confront Normals with the Incomprehen-
sible, you have got to have a culture of your own to wage war with; and,
given that I'm no addition to your creative forces by this stage, you need
more talent than what you've got.
Spirit of
Daniel A. Foss
past