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=============================================================
Date: Tue, 7 Jun 1994 19:48:51 -0500
From: Oliver North <JMAC>
To: Multiple recipients of list <donkey-l@mcfeeley.cc.utexas.edu>
Subject: My personal shame
Friends,
I am a neo-fascist former military lifer who disgraced his country and
uniform by lying to congress and trying to pin the blame on a senile
old codger.
I have religious views so biased and primitive as to make Hitler's ghost
blush. I instill fear and paranoia in the uneducated and underclass.
I am one of a class of power mad bastards who would in a heratbeat subject
everyone else to the most vile tortures just as long as I am not in any
way inconvenienced.
Hatred is my partner, fear is my friend.
Won't you (sob sob sob) please (sob) support my race for governor?
Ollie
=============================================================
Date: Tue, 7 Jun 94 08:40:37 MDT
From: WHIPLASH
To: Donkey
Subject: WHOLE DAY OFF
lordy lordy, i gotta git that on CD. "whole day off" is an
oingo boingo song. i understand they're touring soon.
got all moved. took yesterday off of work and read half
of Capt. Joshua Slocum's "Sailing Alone Around the World".
It was fun. my head got better. man, i've been fucking
with my own head lately. looking to st. peter: "one more
marine reporting, sir, i've spent my time in a shell."
ever heard that one? the marine corps "fuck-you-white-man-
and-get-outta-my-way" to st. peter as they blow by the pearly
gates? only, they end it "...spent my time in hell.", horror
of war and all, y'see.
my new downstairs neighbor is the biggest wastoid burnout i think
i've ever seen in my life, even more of a burnout than the
losers downstairs at my old place. i don't care, so long as
he's a *quiet* burnout. but janice is living in a small building
with maybe 5 or 6 units in it, and there's a garden with a big
stone bench made from the red stone cut from up in the hills,
and nice plants, and all the surrounding buildings for at least
a block in every direction are houses with families in 'em, nice
houses, nice yards, beautiful trees, real quiet and tranquil,
she's two blocks from a big grocery store, her neighbors are all
young, attractive, friendly women, like herself, in professional
gigs, etc. etc. etc.etc.
i'm fucking cursed! the bitch stole all my luck! shit! ah,
well, hell; i'd rather she had it anyways. the only luck i'm any
good at is the sloppy, dumb kind. *that* i got in spades. near
misses and stuff like that--i'm a maestro. but getting a downstairs
neighbor who is a legitimate member of the human race: no chance.
MY new place is a big run-down complex next to the interstate built
about 35 years ago out of concrete and balsa-wood. a recent survey
revealed that 37% of my neighbors consider the term "white trash"
to be a cruel misnomer which belittles many of the delicate
subtleties of their lifestyle and portrays their strong, unformed
patriotic and familial instincts as being coarse and semi-animalistic.
They are tired of being discriminated against for their farmer's
tans, their bizarre, mongoloid looks and their vacant, belligerent
stare. They're not *stupid*: they're CEREBRALLY CHALLENGED, and
they want me to get that *straight* with you and everybody else.
I moved from Fag Central right up to the fringes of the Denver metro
area: the Redneck Belt. What's *wrong* with me? Why don't I wanna
*do* right?
Leaping across the Social Spectrum,
r
=============================================================
From: "Merciful Lee Dickens" <DICKENS>
Subject: REPORT ON BLITHERFEST '94
Date: 07 JUN 1994 10:01 -06
To: Donkey
Yesterday it was Fat Lady, sitting on the other side of the pitifully
inadequate divider from me, with her smelly shoes off and her foul fat
sweaty despicable lavishly-bunioned pig's feet stinking to high heaven,
whistling her trademark off-key theme, "The Love Song From Romeo And
Juliet", accompanied by Harley Fucking Babbling Brooks on lead hacking
cough (picture a loud unbelievably-obnoxious wracking tubercular cough
going on endlessly in the same room with you, then multiply it by a
thousand and then, I swear to you, you come CLOSE to what it was like),
who wouldn't go home and spare us all the certain contagion because
"my wife would just kick me out of the house again", and yet refused to
take the medicine subscribed and obtained just that very same day
because (oh GOD, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot
change) "it will make me sleepy" (!) and how I PRAYED to be delivered
from that evil and after hours of aperient agony and mental anguish
WAS duly delivered into the muggy remnants of the day, released on my
own recognizance to go home to sleep and attempt restoration of all the
requisite resistance necessary to withstand Yet Another Day In Parallel
Hell...
And now I'm back. And it's like I never left. It's the same old
Hieronymous Bosch painting with my seat in the cramped little cubicle
right there in the bottom left-hand corner of the canvas, ringside to
the ongoing odyssey that would make the inmates of Charenton blanch.
Harley evidently *did* take his cough medicine this morning because
he's babbling even more than usual, if that's indeed possible, showing
everyone in the room (except me, Mercifully) a photograph of his son
and loudly braying a maddeningly-grating introductory monologue to go
with it.
That may not seem so odd unless you bear in mind that everyone in the
room already *KNOWS* Harley's son! Calvin (can you dig it?) has been
here LOTS of times, but still The Great Blitherer is showing them a
photo of him like he's just been born and is waiting in the hospital
incubator Right This Very Minute to give each and every one of us a
flinch, a blench, a twitching hideous recoil from the likes of which we
may never fully recover, but it's the sublimely-idiotic comment he just
made that really bears reporting. Here it is, verbatim:
>>>>> "Do you know that that scrapper irons his ownshirts?"<<<<<
It was said with incredulity and admiration.
Meanwhile, in the adjacent ring, Fat Lady is criticizing her daughter
for trying to break out of The Mold and show a little Individuality:
"She just looks HA-RUBBLE in those tacky clothes! I told her it looks
like something a LUNCHROOM WORKER would wear!"
Over THERE, Screeching Bandsaw Hillbilly Woman is decalcifying the
collective spinal column with her provocatively asperate articulation:
"Cane yew all buhLEEVE that Dwight Yoakam is THUTTY-EIGHT YEARS OLD???"
And the newest member to the gaggle, the pitifully neurotic student
employee that I can't help but call the Bonehead (it started out as
the Bowhead) is flittering and fluttering around like it's backstage
before the big Vacation Bible School play and she can't remember her
lines and her mother and grandmother and great-grandmother and great-
GREAT-grandmother and the entire roster of the local Daughters of the
American Revolution are sitting on the front row, knitting additional
Commandments to append to her already starchy ramrod straight psuedo-
Christian Ethnically-Cleansed Holier-Than-Thou I'm-A-Little-Teapot
cracked dwarf mentality and it's a momentary discomfiture as one of her
blinders slips and she accidentally looks me RIGHT IN THE EYE before
catching herself and locking it back into place with a frown of slight
disgust.
As I quickly secretly transmit these words to you, the Outside World,
she is actually saying something about a fear of rabbits she suffered
when she was a little girl. How apropos, now that she's a tall girl,
that she should inadvertently sum up the group phobia of the entire
hutch with so succinct a non-observation...
And BONUS: just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, who should
drop through the celebrity trap door but the dreaded OUTPATIENT ?!
And she raises the lunacy to a completely new dimension with her
pretend little-girl voice and her whole dysfunctional deeply-disturbed
psychoses that are as numerous as the invisible birds which tweet in
geosynchronous orbit about the blinking mother ship whose cloaking
device keeps its perch atop her demon-ridden skull a secret to all but
those who cannot help staring in abject terror as she approaches the
outer perimeter even now, waving her arms windmill-fashion and
spit-bubbling something about Dick Clark....
I'm not kidding, motherfuckers
I'm Working Without A Net In Here And I Demand Some Respect,
GODDAMMIT,
Merciful
Dying For Your Sins On A Daily Basis
Since 1986
p.s. - Whiplash, send me your goddamn address before I spend the money
I owe you!
=============================================================
Date: Tue, 7 Jun 1994 14:07:39 -0500
From: <WHIPLASH>
To: Multiple recipients of list <donkey-l@mcfeeley.cc.utexas.edu>
Subject: step up to the plate in your head
On Mon, 18 Apr 1994, AA741CN wrote:
> final page. The posts on this list have at least one thing
> in common. They are incredibly obsesssive and narcissistic.
> Does anyone here ever look at anything besides a mirror??
you'd rather we talked about you? current events? what
should we talk about?
you find us "incredibly" obsessive and narcissistic... you
need to *get out* more man. the gang members and scumbags
and smug, bizarro normals who calmly explain to me that they
don't NEED to wonder, they don't NEED to know, we're here
because we're here and people like me just ask questions
because we can't stand it when the conversation shifts away
from us and all this kind of crap. they have reality by the
tail, and they're complacent about it. but i've noticed that
they stop being so smug and certain when it turns around and
bites the shit outta their ass. then they turn to miserable
obsessive creeps like me, clawing at everybody and everything
in sight like a drowning person and by then it's too late and
i can't stand to be around 'em anymore... or was that me? i
can't seem to get this mirror out of my face.
i'd rather read about the neurotic, screwed up interior world
of another obsessive than have to sit through day after day, year
after year of your message. i'm sick of your message. what do
you want? just tell me what you want and i'll give it to you
and you can go away.
is this AA741CN even still around? i just realized that it
wrote that message back in april. this is old news, isn't it.
this is the ghost of that shithead SHUTTER, isn't it.
gee, i feel so stupid now.
VIVE LA MOI!,
mETro
_
=============================================================
Date: Wed, 8 Jun 1994 21:46:32 -0500
From: Buffy & Jody <JMAC>
To: Multiple recipients of list <donkey-l@mcfeeley.cc.utexas.edu>
Subject: Other Realities
Hi!
Jody here, Buffy is being transformed at the moment. Her and her damned
Hinduism. Last night she told me she was entering the 4th chakra and would
no longer drop acid with me and Uncle Bill. What a wuss!
Wrote a little story for me donk mates, here it goes:
"Jody! Jody! Wake up now!"
Looked out from my bed and saw a magnificent horned owl with burning yellow
eyes and red feet. Had a nifty little hat, French called it a bowler.
"Jody, I am the grief you will suffer later in this life, my name is
Valentine. Do not fear me or I will eat your most prized book."
Called 911 and told 'em there was a huge horned owl over here threatening
to devour literature. Told me to take a valium and drink a beer real slow
and the owl would go away. I did like they said and the owl vanished but
he left his hat.
And my grief.
Kiss the cows and make them sigh!
Jody
Droppin' Acid Alone
Terra Haute
=============================================================
Date: Wed, 08 Jun 94 22:10:01 EDT
From: "Daniel A. Foss" <DFOSS@CCVM.sunysb.edu>
Organization: State University of New York at Stony Brook
Subject: cast my pearlsbefore swine in a bottle threw in sea we
To: Donkey
shall see. Got 2 donkey-l posts yestiddy, sorta, only one copy steada tooo
as before, correct fucking english all day, fuck it, so i sent in, see whuz
goinon.
======================================================================== 17
Date: Wed, 08 Jun 94 21:57:46 EDT
From: "Daniel A. Foss" <DFOSS@ccvm.sunysb.edu>
Organization: State University of New York at Stony Brook
Subject: this is a grade test follows
To: donkey-l <donkey-l@mcfeeley.cc.utexas.edu>
Message-Id: <940608.215746.EDT.DFOSS@ccvm.sunysb.edu>
Barbarism (n): Any doctrine to the effect that all women named Barbara are
the same person. Sole believer is Mrs Gussie Foss of 97-50 63rd Dr, RegoPark
NY 11374. The original Barbara was last seen in 1970 and even then it wasfar
too late. Total strangers calling (718) 897-0757 should identify themselves
as Barbara for free money. Avon ladies will be amazed, betchurasz, what can
be sold to an 88-year-old lady, after all these years alone with aches and
pains and suffering you have no idea, at the last possible second Barbara
shows up, there must be a God, I think.
Daniel A. Foss
=============================================================
Date: Thu, 9 Jun 1994 21:31:33 -0500
From: Arlington Offal <JMAC>
To: Multiple recipients of list <donkey-l@mcfeeley.cc.utexas.edu>
Subject: Purchase of Donkey Meat
Gents and Ladies,
Has the donkey died again? Willing to offer 67 cents per pound. Act
soon even we have our standards.
Arlington Offal, Buyer
Ralston Purina/Jack In THe Box Restaurants
=============================================================
Date: Fri, 10 Jun 1994 21:29:31 -0500
From: Spot the Dog <JMAC>
To: Multiple recipients of list <donkey-l@mcfeeley.cc.utexas.edu>
Subject: Tainted Friskees Chunks
Tiger tiger burning bright
In the forest of the night
I wish I might I wish I may
My odorific owners slay
They think I'm dumb
but that's the ploy
My brain it hums
untill I destroy
Their trusting little faces turned
Towards the dog, their lessons learned
Blood and flesh flies on the wall
Yes teach I will to no more call
"BOOTSIE OODLES! SUPPY SUP SUP TIME!"
Spot the Dog
Curled up in YOUR kitchen
=============================================================
Date: Mon, 13 Jun 94 12:51:20 MDT
From: WHIPLASH
To: Donkey
Subject: something funny i said to my wife recently
my wife, janice, and i were having a fight the other
day and i said,
"you know, sometimes, living with you is like digging
a ditch, but without the benefit of having a ditch
when you're done."
even though we were right in the middle of enjoying
hating each other's guts, we both broke up in laughter.
i had forgotten about it, but over the weekend she
started laughing all of the sudden while i was reading
and i asked her what she was laughing about and she
told me that she was remembering what i said. she's
awful sweet. she really is a good egg. we just had a
good laugh about it and i thought you might get a little
chuckle out of it.
they've installed a giant venus fly trap behind my chair at
work, with this radio controlled wire contraption thing
that holds it's mouth open. when i come to work in the
morning, the first thing i have to do, i have to lean my
head back and rest it in the mouth of this thing, and if
i do anything that they don't like, they hit a button and
the radio-controlled spring-thing snaps and the fly trap
closes around my face and digests my brain. and you all
know what happens then...
...it dies of starvation! i'd have the last laugh on that
plant, and you know what the man said: "revenge is a dish
best served cold", although in my case it's more like the
Irish Potato Famine! Ah, God, I just break myself up! You
and me, we just have such a swell time together, don't we?
one mississippi,
two mississippi,
three mississippi,
four mississippi,
five mississippi,
six mississippi,
seven mississippi,
eight mississippi,
nine mississippi,
ten mississippi,
READY OR NOT, HERE I COME!
rob
=============================================================
Date: Tue, 14 Jun 1994 17:51:28 -0500
From: "Chester, God of Fire" <JMAC>
To: Multiple recipients of list <donkey-l@mcfeeley.cc.utexas.edu>
Subject: Risky Business
So I was lounging about Valhalla the other day when my cellular pager
starts vibrating lke mad. "EMER 776 00 211 0 EMER" Those were the
characters it madly flashed in its absolutely most lurid shade of
red.
Called for the phone eunich to fetch an instrument, which he did but
not without a bit of grumbling. "A thousand years I've walked these halls,
and what do they do? They cut of my balls! Your phone, sire!"
Punched in the digits and held my breath, it could be my ex, broke and
in jail, again. It rang and it rang and I was giving up hope when suddenly
the instrument spoke, "Hello, this is Donna, godess of soap, I can't answer
the phone, I'm at the end of a rope. Some modern theologians burst in on my
house, they gagged me and tied me and called me a louse. Donna, they said,
'former godess of soap, tonight you will die, look here at our rope' Into
a noose they fashioned the thing and said 'goodbye pretty Donna have a
really nice swing' So that's about it I'm dead as a bone, but leave me
a message, begin at the tone."
Shit. Another one bites the dust.
Chester, God of Fire
=============================================================
Date: Thu, 16 Jun 1994 08:45:21 -0400 (EDT)
From: "E.J. Ford CFS" <EJFORD>
Subject: Re: editorial explanation
To: Donkey
I, personally was, and am still very concerned about Mr. Holder's threats
on the much beloved girth of MR. Merciful Lee Dickens.
Dana, is the gut still in tact? Are you having Whippy's Baby? Is it
male, female, other? Does the sound of breaking glass give you a woody,
or is that just me? Have you listened to the other side of the tape
yet? Has ANYONE listened to the other side of the tape yet or just the
side that has "Beyond the Sea" on it? Have I mentioned that I played
"Beyond the Sea when I proposed to MY BEAUTIFUL WIFE, who lives with me
in my shotgun shack and WHOM I've seen naked?
Well?
EJ "With Fnord, quality is job none" Ford
=============================================================
Date: Thu, 16 Jun 1994 09:16:39 -0400 (EDT)
From: "E.J. Ford CFS" <EJFORD>
Subject: Re: note
To: Donkey
Barbara, he asked nervousy, in what way are you "really ... a freak?"
Just asking. I mean, if you really are a freak in thatyou can shoot
death rays out of your eyes or something, I don't mind telling you that I
find that very attractive and non-threatening. It's lovely in a woman or
bipedal hominid of any sort.
Don't kill me, ok?
On the other hand, if you are a freak because you eat your peas with
honey, or something, fuck off. I don't care if you HAVE done it all your
life.
EJ "<insert witty nickname here>" Ford
=============================================================
Date: Thu, 16 Jun 1994 11:57:02 -0500
From: The Garden Politic <LIBALP>
To: Multiple recipients of list <donkey-l@mcfeeley.cc.utexas.edu>
Subject: The Only Fight In Town
In my _Fascisti Apologia_, I describe methods for manipulating schools offish
into higher moral states. This is known to insiders as the Tampa Procedure,
so-called because of successful mind-control experiments undertaken there to
combat the Pensacola Venting Technique, wherein a forehead is bloodied.
Copies of my book, including the acclaimed chapter on chicken-fooling, may
be obtained by writing to me at the following address:
The Garden Politic
The Plantation
557 Street Avenue
Hoover
regards,
TGP
=============================================================
Date: Thu, 16 Jun 1994 20:13:07 -0500
From: Sam <JMAC>
To: Multiple recipients of list <donkey-l@mcfeeley.cc.utexas.edu>
Subject: Visit to Your World
Came swooping down upon your world after I saw a listing in the
New Realms Gazette:
"Comfy young world, just newly discovered, sentients there think THEY
have uncovered the truth about physics, reality and lust advise you
go slowly or your plans will go bust. If you can't slow down your
adventurous ass, we strongly suggest on this world a pass."
Just what I wanted for a vacation, a quiet little offbeat world full
of slow brains. First I checked with the gods of planning, gave 'em
a ring to see if this place really existed.
"Surely it does, a place called Earth! Lovely backwater adjacent to
to Mirth, take the A-105 out to the Closet of Gloom then steer towards
the center of the realm called Doom. Beware of the people, they can be
quite depressive, they think everything is always suggestive of death
and disease, unhappiness and ruin. Go there in summer but watch out
for the bruins."
Got my directions straight and headed on out past the Circle of Reason.
Took me a while but soon I was popping into your dimension and onto your
nice little reality setup. Spent most of my summer amongst your kind, saw
some really nice shows and ate at cool diners. After I returned and told
about my adventure, the Elders of Thought just had one question:
"Why do they go on so about this matter of dying, don't they realize
that others are spying into their world and miniscule lives, beings
of standing with no need of wives. What is this hang-up with death
and destruction it's all their creation. Don't their little brainsfunction?
Can't they ever slowly somehow be told that this thing they call death is
a joke so old that beings of light such as you and your mother laugh at
such thoughts as being the brother of fear and of ignorance and paranoia
and doubt? Go right back and tell them, and do so with clout!"
So! I was off to save your kind and bring you all into the blissful realm
of all-knowing and the calm of eternal peace. Then I remembered how some
son of a bitch ripped off my hotel room in Kansas, took all my memories
of Plato and Mickey, stole my clothing and demanded money. So I reconsidered
my previous objective and came to this conclusion:
"Dear friends and companions I made there last summer, I must be quite
frank 'cause my news is a bummer. You earthly beings are greedy and
smelly, your foremost concern is the crap in your belly. Reality is yours
to shape and to mold, a gift from the gods of realities old. I came to
your planet to love and embrace but the treatment I got did nothing
but disgrace you before the eyes of all beings of light and of reason,
don't take me wrong this isn't a treason against the few I found there
who are genuinely loving, but to the rest of mankind a great big huge
shoving right up your asses of the hate and the loathing you lot call
religion, it's not fit for most dogs, nor not even most pigeons.
To mankind in general this is my wish, may you all one day be blessed
with the compassion of fish! Sod Off!
Sam
Third Circle of Light,
Triangle of Knowing
=============================================================
Date: Thu, 16 Jun 94 17:57:33 EDT
From: DFOSS@CCVM.sunysb.edu
Organization: State University of New York at Stony Brook
Subject: two questions
To: Donkey
1. There is a hit or something song, getting lots of airplay on Long Island,
second time I heard it in a cab in months, this guy is singing that he's
going underground, "Can you hear me," he's singing to his wife orsignificant
other, "There's a gun and ammunition just inside the door/Use it in case of
e-mer-gen-ceeeee," "Can you hear me," She should mind the children, because
"sons and daughters will rise up/Where we stood still," "Can you hear me,"
it's a long song. As it goes on, one gathers that a fascist coup took place
when everyone wasn't looking, and the singer is making like the teenage boy
version of Margaret Attwood's Handmaid's Tale, an' stuff.
Question is, what's the song title, singer and or group, album title.
Sorry for the intrusion, but foss owns nothing electrical or electronic,
like Normal armenians and lizzy.
2. zeek are you zoe: [continued below]
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Subject: subscribe foss-request
To: DFOSS@CCVM.sunysb.edu
Date: Sat, 11 Jun 1994 03:52:40 -0500 (CDT)
From: zoe@io.com
Reply-To: zoe@io.com
subscribe foss-request
"Thanks in advance"
z o e
------------------------------------------------------------------------ 12
Date: Sun, 12 Jun 94 00:35:01 EDT
From: "Daniel A. Foss" <DFOSS@ccvm.sunysb.edu>
Organization: State University of New York at Stony Brook
Subject: what?
To: zoe <zoe@io.com>
Message-Id: <940612.003501.EDT.DFOSS@ccvm.sunysb.edu>
*what*?
"You are quite welcome in advance."
Daniel A. Foss
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Message-Id: <m0qCmSH-0000aoC@sunshine>
Subject: Re: what?
To: DFOSS@CCVM.sunysb.edu (Daniel A. Foss)
Date: Sun, 12 Jun 1994 05:07:51 -0500 (CDT)
In-Reply-To: <940612.003501.EDT.DFOSS@ccvm.sunysb.edu> from "Daniel A.Foss"
at Jun 12, 94 00:35:01 am
From: zoe@io.com
Reply-To: zoe@io.com
*> *what*?
*>
*> "You are quite welcome in advance."
*>
*> Daniel A. Foss
*>
Daniel,
I'm assuming that you are a person that knows a lot about computers.
What is happening when I type the chmod key in the Internet button!
What am I doing wrong?!
Thx!
z o e
mQCNAi35hDMAAAEEAK4ScEWqxVxs0pLvTNpKC8fFNvGARj92d6GJzA3Oe0JVHiN+
nzq8Et26n0spen24jOkgqQ0BKmg2EevI67ceqLZ1G7rGo84OFQgeT2IT1a6BRwbs
tckxA+5QABL4DK02Ro9b3RgLz4JTIRriaSHZRpY4HKtzPa0I3T43xli1bD39AAUR
tBh6b2UgKHpvZUB3b3JkLmZsZXNoLm9yZyk=
=oqT3
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[continued from uptheresomewhere]
...If there's the slightest chance Else, please tell her to ask you. I have
this mysterious problem writing offline letters.
3. I wrote my first porno sex scene last night, sent it to a postmodernist
department chairperson in New Zealand along with classroom quiz questions
on the deconstruction of it. In the sex act, a fast one over the strike zone
hit back up the middle for a solid line drive base hit is the representation
of the signification, which is doing it, feeling it, subtext transformsitself
into main text, reified telos decenters meaning of the contextualizedthrust,
subsumes into its own discourse, and so on, all done with screams andfragments
of sentences.
This is part of the ongoing Garage Sale on my integrity. My prose style,
LIKE NEW, together with rights to the word "Thingie" is next. Leaving town.
EVERYTHING MUST GO before 31 July. Can't hardly move at all, almost. So,when
University Housing threw me out of the Grad Dorms *and* the SocDept Chair
told me they were going to charge $ for $ for this computer account, it was
time to *go*. But I can't move my body. shit.
Daniel A. Foss
=============================================================
Date: Thu, 16 Jun 94 21:10:41 EDT
From: "Daniel A. Foss" <DFOSS@CCVM.sunysb.edu>
Organization: State University of New York at Stony Brook
Subject: fingering barbarism
To: Donkey
Barbara Hall. You didn't actually finger that account, <withheld@zodiac.
rutgers.edu>, did you? Tell me, yer puttin me on. *Obviously*, withheld
is the last name of [name withheld], where the first name cannot be [name]
since it is Known it's Barbara.
For those not Leri'd, Barbara Hall posted to<Leri@gossip.pyramid.com>
Fri, 10 Jun 94 16:16:46 EDT thusly:
>finger withheld@zodiac.rutgers.edu
>unknown host: zodiac.rutgers.edu
The occasion was the following, alluding to a dim Family Foss folkmemory of
a formative influence on the young foss who might, had things been slightly
different, have successfully if belatedly emerged from infancy into earliest
Childishness; but alas, it was not to be. Specifically, Ms Barbara Brandt of
Avenue X, Brooklyn, longtime graduate student in sociology at ParvenuUniver-
sity, Waltham MA; aka the ecdysiast Bathsheba of Brooklyn. Signature below.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: Thu, 09 Jun 94 18:08:44 EDT
From: "Daniel A. Foss" <DFOSS@CCVM.sunysb.edu>
To: Leri@pyramid.com (Leri)
Cc: Leri@pyramid.com
Subject: barbarism
Errors-To: owner-leri@pyramid.com
Message-Id: <940609.180844.EDT.DFOSS@ccvm.sunysb.edu>
Organization: State University of New York at Stony Brook
"I hate talking to your mother. I *really hate* talking to your mother,"
Barbara Hall said.
"If I said in the e-mail I was 'going home now,' and I was in Stony Brook
when I sennitout, since I couldn't have been in Rego Park, Queens, youshoulda
called the (516) 632-2561 number, as you just now did, cuz ihadda been here,
even if I'd'a got t'duh City via Transporter Room, my mother's apartment is
decidedly not *home*."
****
[Weeks later]:
"Ma?"
"You with Barbara?"
"<....>"
[This afternoon]:
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Dr. Foss,
I saw something about you not being able to log on for awhile. Last
week I sent a post to Anthro-L asking about Medical Models. Did you
see it? I think you may have a lot to contribute.and
Barbara
withheld@zodiac.rutgers.edu
------------------------------------------------------------------------ 48
Date: Thu, 09 Jun 94 16:46:27 EDT
From: DFOSS@ccvm.sunysb.edu
Organization: State University of New York at Stony Brook
Subject: have got it on file will take lots of looking
To: Barbara Withheld <withheld@zodiac.rutgers.edu>
Resent-Message-Id: <940609.164627.EDT.DFOSS@ccvm.sunysb.edu>
Dear Barbara Withheld,
If I knew what day it was posted that might facilitate the search, though
I have the complete collection of ANTHRO-L postings on floppidisk, the
meaning & purpose of existence being the accumulation of rectangularobjects.
One of these may be used to eat the hard drive of another computer in the
computer room, and so on, as the virus is indeed real, at least real enough
to devour part of the hard drive software on this one, the WP5.1 I'm sureof,
till I've got them all; naaah, too much work. Anyway, this includes theposts
for the five-ish days I was in Canada.
I see by your given name that you are eligible for Barbarism, sense 2;
where sense 1 was defined yesterday, thusly:
------------------------------------------------------------------------ 17
Date: Wed, 08 Jun 94 21:57:46 EDT
From: "Daniel A. Foss" <DFOSS@ccvm.sunysb.edu>
Organization: State University of New York at Stony Brook
Subject: this is a grade test follows
To: donkey-l <donkey-l@mcfeeley.cc.utexas.edu>
Message-Id: <940608.215746.EDT.DFOSS@ccvm.sunysb.edu>
Barbarism (n): Any doctrine to the effect that all women named Barbara are
the same person. Sole believer is Mrs Gussie Foss of 97-50 63rd Dr, RegoPark
NY 11374. The original Barbara was last seen in 1970 and even then it wasfar
too late. Total strangers calling (718) 897-0757 should identify themselves
as Barbara for free money. Avon ladies will be amazed, betchurasz, what can
be sold to an 88-year-old lady, after all these years alone with aches and
pains and suffering you have no idea, at the last possible second Barbara
shows up, there must be a God, I think.
Daniel A. Foss
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Barbarism, sense 2: Anything taught or advocated by any person eligible
for Barbarism, sense 1. All statements, assertions, beliefs, and wildeyed
delusions by any Barbara however much not subscribed to by any other Barbara
or Barbarae are equally True, no matter how mutually contradictory or
empirically falsifiable.
Barbarically,
Daniel
<any depression becomes tedious by 1934 or at the latest 1935>
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Daniel A. Foss
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Daniel A. Foss
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