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========================================================================
Date: Tue, 30 Nov 1993 19:20:15 -0600
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: moores7518
Subject: Junk Mail!
PEOPLE WANTING UNSUBSCRIPTION FROM FNORD-L:
Take heed! You have been viciously and merciless pranked! And the beauty
is... none of *us* know how to unsubscribe *either*!
Yes sir, I remember way back in '91 when someone viciously and mercilessly
subscribed me to FNORD-L, and oh, how they *laughed* at my little pleas for
unsubscription... but these days, the spark has left us, and that viciousand
merciless prankster just doesn't care, keeps subscribing people at a rate of
one person a day, plans to eventually have the whole damn Internetsubscribed
so that we can all sit here and whine "Unsubscribe me, unsubscribe me" ateach
other until the Millenium comes...
Waste of space list? Indeed. Perhaps if you're *creative* with your pleafor
unsubscription, someone will pass along the Holy Grail of Subscription
Information to you, but until that day, expect more and more waste from each
and every one of us here at FNORD-L -- Your Pals In Whiny Space Wasting!
Your pal,
Scotto, FNORD-L Public Relations Dept.
=========================================================================
Date: Thu, 2 Dec 1993 10:50:05 -0400
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: lesser <LESSER>
Subject: at least the fucker spelled my name right
i woke up with a hangover at 2:30 this morning, with this strange feeling i
ought to check my e-mail. see, i'd passed out at about 9:30, after downingA
LOT MORE vodka than i had in me when i called arthur l. parker at around7:30
looking for robert holder's telephone number. i was waiting by the phonefor
sarah to call, because kate didn't, and i was drowning in this feeling ofbeing
something like i used to be. you know, back before i lost everything, triedto
kill my ex-roommate and best friend with a shotgun, and somehow managed to
avoid doing any time in the big house or the nut house. 1990, was it? didi
mentioned i stopped drinking -- well, getting drunk everyday -- about twoyears
ago, when i became a Respected Professional? yeah, but something about not
being able to write for the last month. that and remembering what it waslike
to really be in love, not just fucking someone you like and thinking you wantto
spend your life with them, or anything stupid like that. i mean really in
love, like getting your heart ripped out and wanting to die, but beinginspired
not to kill yourself, just so you can be with your lover again and make them
understand things and smile at you and look into your eyes and that kind of
shit. these feelings of loss have just sort of got me in a rut. i kickedmy
last girlfriend out of my place a few months ago, but i didn't really loveher,
anyway. love is something that you really LUCK out when you find it. like,
heather, who i took home the night i met her, along with her friend andy,when
i met them in this fancy gay bar/restaurant that i was meeting a few friendsat
for dinner. fell in love her the next morning, after we ditched andy andwent
to her place, while she was in the shower and i was going through her
notebooks. turned out i LUCKED out and picked up a genius, one of the best
poets i've ever read. after i got her 31 year-old harvard university loverout
of the way, and before she started hearing voices, sleeping with my friends,
trying to kill herself and ending up in a mental hospital, our time together
was bliss... but, that's not why i'm writing. i'm writing because someonesent
me a message and thinks i oughta come in here and kick your ass for throwingmy
name around and claiming to be my friends. and someone else sent me all the
messages with my name in them, knowing i'm an egotistical bastard who'd geta
kick out of it. but i guess i don't really need to say anything. i was too
hung-over at 3:00 to respond, and now it just seems so dead and silly,anyway.
but, you kids keep me alive over here. do your part in making me anet.legend.
see, the corpse is rising with scorpio. i'm moving to austin in february.i'm
working on a novel i just started, when i can start writing again.(hopefully
during the process of moving.) i've got a mailing list that i'm putting
together for the old stonybrooker's and their new friends. (and don't askif
you can be on it.) and look for me sneaking in the back door at leri@con,
under an assumed name, without paying. i'll be the one calling everyone on
their bullshit and letting them get me high for free while i seduce their
women and steal their wallets.
groggily,
surrender nether legend
(somnambulist)
=========================================================================
Date: Thu, 2 Dec 1993 12:17:32 -0400
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: lesser <LESSER>
Subject: if i didn't make myself clear
it's all about taking chances. the only risk is failure. death is worse
than failure; but the chance of immortality is a greater thing.
really.
(just wanted to clarify what all that rambling before was about. considerthis
the cliff notes version for majcher.)
mine more than yours,
surreal narcotic lethargy
------------------------------------------------------------------------------|
p.s. wanna be a disciple? send me $10 before january 5th and you can|
| consider yourself one. $20 gets you a personal letter or collect phone|
| call. $50 and you can crash at my place when you're in whatever city i'm|
| living in at the time. more than than may qualify you to receive sexual|
| favors, subject to availabilty and certain restrictions.|
||
| if you're sending less than $20, make it cash.|
||
| the address is:|
||
| Scott Lesser|
| ------------------------ |
| ------------------------. |
||
| and don't be an asshole and get any bright ideas show up to harass me. i|
| still keep my mossberg right next my bed.|
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------=========================================================================
Date: Fri, 3 Dec 1993 20:54:09 -0600
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: moores7518
Subject: something to chew on
It's a warm and sensuous groove, intoxicating at first in all the waysyou'd
expect it not to want to be, and when the lyrics get around to theirinsinua-
tions, the backbeat's already taken me. A warm and billowing rush describes the
onset, though quickly we can already begin joking about how we used to need when
and soon and so on. Towering plumes of sensation, like a rocket, taking me
forward, upward, through, and these are the first bars, where the saxophone
reels because of all the exhaust. If the words were ever clear, they would have
been in the process of being what will have been clear-ness, in that wewon't
have asked for such clarity until such time as processes like those wordswere
necessary, and even then, the instigation of such would have reminded me alot
of this, which is to say, quickly I will discover who my audience is.Powerful
columns and blistering riffs that exacerbate themselves exponentially, in as
much as you are willing to entertain such language, for suddenly, I am inthe
process of etceterating a past into existence, such that I could live thereif
I was asked to, and, furthermore, such that interested parties who already
sublease regardless could stake their claim on further development in this
area. It's an intoxicating, sensuous ocean, and believe me, it wants not to
convey flavors of cliche, although, previous travellers throw up beaconsperi-
odically to which they All Seem To Resonate, but; I interstand how theirlexi-
con might have served useful, inasmuchas the how's it going might be more colorful.
Billowing claws want to insinuate themselves into my rib cage, force itopen
and coagulate, willowing and slithering such that I might feel the need to gnaw,
and I am told that here is where the action happens, excepting thefootnotes,
which, by the by, are everything else and take up more of the page anyway,but;
I'm here, I didn't seem to want it this way, except that when you asked me,I
didn't know that those particular apprehensions in regards to questions Iwas
waiting for you to ask weren't entirely relevant to answers to thosequestions,
which, not forthcoming, amounted to more of an interesting parenthetical
disclaimer than any sort of tangible approach to these particular claws,which,
sensing waves of sensuous intoxication as they seem to want to be called are
nonetheless the twisting maddening soundscapes that I gnew deep down I wasask-
ing you about in that special way I have, but, claws won't never mind allthat
at any rate. Oozing eyeballs and simmering ampersands remind me of things I
always hated to gnow about, such as, why the flavor tastes so salty when Iwas
thinking more along the lines of oozing etceterations into a frothy stew of
blues and greens and sores the likes of which I'll see again and again,
dressing
themselves up to make it interesting, in that such dressings always know the way
to interest that which wants it salty to begin with. Desperately, I threw a
tendril to my pursuers, thinking, of course, to distract them.
Shrieks of sensuous pleasing-ness rumble across my entire forefront, andI
envision for a moment a vision of envisioning, whilst somewhere severalsteps
to the left, whole arks float past with teeming subcultures waving theirclaws,
and enterprising schemes the likes of which I'd often wondered hadn't shown
their faces til the whole damn thing turned blue, eventually, she realized,
something sacrificed itself along the way for rhythm, and the motion carried
the only answers that you were ever thinking of asking, to the tune of ifand
also and, and anyways, the whirling churning tropes I've gotten my share ofso
maybe this sickening thunder underneath me wasn't the question I was wantingan
answer to in the second place; urstwhile, pains of claws that scavenge'cross
your back sing plistering swimsongs to the tune of rising sickness, whilstif
and and contain themselves anon with pleasant bickering for their own sake.I
can swallow multitudes of gleaming yellows, churning down the horripic wave
that slanders blood from deep within, still playing pleasant how do you do'son
gentle wooden instruments that plister and plillow in ways I can't describe.
Shadowed nastic corridors rush past at sweltering speeds, and always inthe
nevermind I wondered where the rhythm spoke, horrid rushing vertigo that
gripped and clawed and stewed, whilst every act of artiface whirled only to
impose some structure on the intoxicating-ness, which, once insinuated,never
couldn't be then extrapolated, regardless of how you answered the question.
And corridors rushed past, of that I'm certain, and I'm certain that, just
around such corners as are just ahead, I'm certain that corridors needed
soothing, leastways I envisioned someone with the necessary lingo scoopingup
such tendrils I had longed to find a way to perfectly deliver, imagine then
which what might rhythm want to be in fact, and then, if some such claws
weren't grooving just so perfectly off center, you might see the hand that's
waving at you from around the not seen corner that doesn't answer speed.
Invectives hurled with such precision encode their ambiguity so, and in the midst
dare ask yourself, I do, why which what where, and also, ask me again?Or,
to put it mildly, how much did I eat? Such simple questions indicate astart
to which you might first put a want to. I had such precise direction, so I
thought, when first I sailed, and now, I will have wanted you to please, oh
please, say something, so I know you're there. I rush past hauntingcorridors
of steam and shouted whispers, always knowing that you're there, alwaysfeeling
that you're there, always twitching under the incessant presence that I knowis
you in ways I shouldn't know I know, and there you are, waving your hand at
every single taunting tendril that I've cleverly thought to bait you with,
excepting that, you don't seem to mind my coyish games, which truth be toldI
only tried because I'm terrified and now's the time I wish that waving hands
would kiss me on the lips
found such shimmer wasted as I grasped and clawed and spun my way through
corridor after corridor, not stopping once to open doors the likes of which
I'd not stopped once to liken, and what if waving hands were spun withinwhich
ways of jasterly I stopped, and likened once again. The hand, once waved,
would not unwave, but dare I not say that's what's said, as hands waved once
are not no such simmering pleasantries hoped for once and all. No one ever
wants to give the groove that extra special twist, the one that says I readyou
oh so clearly, puts you in the driver's seat and lets you steer toward this
which rest stop means the meaning, but, there it is, since alone-ness hasAll
Been Done Before, I suppose you oughta stop whining about it.
And virulent tropes escape you, structures charge their impositionsgreen,
since no such clever turn of phrase defines the claws that simper 'crossyour
spine; all I'm saying is, how many fucking mushrooms did I eat? andblackness
Quick, don't shimmer, shout! I need support, I need much more thansimple
rhythmic wants, how does anyone withstand the inhorrific onslaught ofpercep-
tion that accompanies these waves? You, with the waving hand and the attit-
tude, I'm asking you a question, these are all the sorts of questions,granted,
I will have then wanted to begin with, but, at any rate, what the hell is
going on? Am I right in asking that one? Because, how's it going at this
point is beyond the point; shades of blue and all that. Sizzling screaming
adjectives of this and that speak truly, truly, and all of that, which thatyou
know full well of what I speak, these all define the borders of the playing
space we need to call our own -- and these aren't simple grooves no more,you
catch that, I know you must, you play like this was a whispering preschoolof
universal discord, but I suggest, insist, insinuate no better than I must,
that such said playfulness does not become you most!
Scream, then, claw your way into the forefront, though make it pleasingsuch
that those who aren't we won't mind the way you slapped me in the face, just so.
Take a breath, take in the unseen forces twistering around the globe, andfeel
you me a reason why not just to say it plainly, and for ever! Make itgroove,
don't mind the fact that, in the first place, this certainly isn't precisely
how it happened, but we're at that point in our relationship where thingslike
this escape linearity, not that you all hadn't noticed, of course; wouldevery-
one please wave? Thanks. But. These are *just* the places I want fullscale
orchestration, play the lightspeed second reel and just *presume*, why don't
you, that after this which what wave of inanity after itself might not have
been a weeding out of that which didn't have the time to wonder whether Ihad
rights to ask them all to wonder which what wave was Me, so in the meantime,
conceivably
SCREAMING WHITE NOISE is suddenly the twist, a fullscale lastditchdesperate
assault, SMILE THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD I said with tinkling shrieks ofblistered
skin! Wriggle, writhe, you crawl inside your body, need to 'scape the full
scale lastditch claws that PULL YOU UNDER one more time, just when youthought
you had a handle on the lingo, though, AS YOU'RE DROWNING, you can say,well,
I remember, and that's ALL IT TAKES. I've got this and this which ways tosing
to me from shistering pain, despite the all which -- PLEASE, I just wantthis
to Do. I will start slowly, and I will speak from what I know, and that is,
why did I ever begin this to begin with, not so much, why did I SCREAM THE
GROOVING SAND so much as why did I allow for such said eventualities to manifest
in such nonconfigurations? Why did I let this claw that hooked its teethinto
my back so sweetly, why did I let such simple twists of PLOT and CORE and SIMPLE
send me spinning into such self-said lies and shady tricks that left mecold?
All along I ever wondered who the Who was, why the Why was, never once I
stopped to wonder why the Wonder was, and as such, I WAS DROWNING THEN, but
noticed it not as much.
and all of this, behind the eyelids? ha, I moaned out loud, for as the
turmoil churned inside, my body whirled upon the chair; I held on to theamulet
as tightly as I could, and I said, please, oh please, let the Circle supportme
in that special way that I could only once have dreamed of, moan and writher and
gloove and splish, whilst erstwhile comrades seize the day, you feel their
skins are next to you but deep inside, you've all Not Stayed. no one isthere,
no one.
hush...
(excerpted from Work in Progress 2, chapter 28)
=========================================================================
Date: Tue, 7 Dec 1993 03:18:34 -0600
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: moores7518
Subject: Christmas gift tips
Welp, Christmast time is a just a hop, skip, and a jump around the corner,and
that means -- you guessed it! -- suckers are going to give you *free junk*.
Yessir, the single greatest contribution our Lord and Savior ever made tothe
human race was giving us the handy tradition of swapping free stuff once a
year. And we here at FNORD-L want you to have the swankiest darn Christmasyou
ever done had, so here are our swanky and mellifuous Christmas suggestionsfor
this sizzling yuletide season! Enjoy!
FOR YOUR DEARLY BELOVED MOTHER: This is the woman who gave you the ultimate
gift, the gift of life, and what better way to acknowledge her foresight in
having you than to give her a ceramic cast of the Human Birth Canal! Itwould
be swell if you could get a cast of *her* birth canal, but most folks don't
keep ether around the house. So you'll have to be creative! And stay away
from those prostitutes, kids -- this is a *holy* day, for goodness' sake!
FOR YOUR CARING AND UNDERSTANDING FATHER: Yessir, just for putting up withthe
likes of you, your dad deserves a whole assortment of "World's Number OneDad"
paraphenalia: the shirt, the hat, the mug, the boxer shorts, the license
plates, the wall sized mural, the velvet rug painting, the complete tattooset,
the transmisttion, the particle beam accelerator, the strange lake of raw
sewage, the ten mile stretch of interstate, the giant jug of pig's blood,and
of course, the creamed cauliflower. And for those fathers who have beenmaimed
in combine accidents, don't forget Open Wound and Scar Warmers!
FOR YOUR DOTING AND SWEET OLD GRANDPARENTS: Every set of grandparents needsa
big ol' Periodic Chart of the Elements! How many times has Grandma called,
interrupting a passionate lovemaking session, just to ask "What's the atomic
weight of cobalt, dearie?" Darn it, Grandma -- check yer chart! And by the
way, geology textbooks make great bedtime reading for Grandpop -- betterthan
"Fanny Hill," anyway, right, Grandma?
FOR YOUR ADORABLE SIBLINGS: Explore the wonderful world of STAPLERS, and
please your little sis at the same time! Many people don't realize that
staplers come in all shapes and sizes -- well, okay, there's really only one
"stapler shape," but you get the idea. And the best part about staplers is
that if you press 'em just right, little pointy things shoot out the end!The
wonders of modern technology! And hey, isn't it about time you got your
brother that floating garbage barge he's always wanted?
FOR YOUR MULTITUDINOUS COUSINS, NEPHEWS, AND NIECES: Naturally, there'sjust
too many young 'uns in the family to give them each an expensive, thoughtful
gift. So give the gift that keeps on giving: squash!
FOR YOUR SCREWBALL UNCLES AND AUNTS: If your aunt and uncle are anythinglike
mine (and if they are't, get rid of 'em, quick!), they'll appreciate theGrade
A laughter brought on by an expertly planned series of dangerous buthysterical
practical jokes. I remember the time I knocked my aunt out with ether (someof
us *do* keep it around) and then cut off her arms with a hacksaw. Youshoulda
seen her expression when she finally came around! And thanks to the wondersof
modern medical science, they were able to reattach her arms with only a 55%
loss of functionality -- not bad, considering the fun we'll have talkingabout
it in years to come! And by the way, it may be time to fix that still outin
the backyard -- Uncle Jesse likes his 'shine, after all.
FOR YOUR LOCAL PARISH PRIEST: White cross amphetamines, of course! "White
crosses -- because the War on Drugs is a Holy War, after all."
WHAT TO GIVE SOMEBODY WHO HAS EVERYTHING: I suggest a poster sized picture ofa
whole bunch of people who have absolutely *nothing*! What a challenge itwill
be for them to tactfully accept that "starving Ethiopians at Christmas"poster
-- and of course, they'll feel *obligated* to hang it up! The guilt won'tstop
for years! Don't forget to remove the part of the picture that featuresSally
Struthers.
=========================================================================
Date: Tue, 14 Dec 1993 12:43:10 -0600
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: moores7518
Subject: Re: subscribe
In article <199312140523.VAA19711@>, "Ms. Christine Maxwell"
<cmaxwell@> writes:
> unsubscibe
Dear Ms. Christine Maxwell,
Unfortunately, only Stonybrookers have easy access to said function. Sorry!
Your pal,
Scotto
=========================================================================
Date: Wed, 15 Dec 1993 12:18:03 -0600
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: moores7518
Subject: Re: jerky, sulk thee not.
In article <01H6D0F4CAMA00E7NO@>, I Am A Jerky
<ABS002@> writes:
> Zeek-
>
> DAMMIT You're Right!
>
> I'M A Knight! Knight Jerky! Fuck the Others...
>
> We Are the New Generation of Fnord.
>
> The Others: Suck My Dick Just like Lisa Should...
>
> Knight JErky
Dear Knight Jerky,
Profanity as evidenced above has caused your ratings to drop with the entire
over 40 demographic, most of whom never liked you to begin with; however,
ratings with mall rats under 15 seem to have really shot up, although,notably,
mall rats is a male dominated demographic (big hairs under 15 representingthe
female side of that crowd, who don't talk to us anyway). Enlightenedtwenty-
somethings are tolerant at this stage. The big question is: If "Suck MyDick
Just like Lisa Should..." catches on, does Fnord-L get the residuals? Ihave
my people working on this right now, and preliminary reports are not good.
Lisa's got some rights here, it seems. At any right, "New Generation ofFnord"
will have to go, what with the Pepsi people and all, and "Fuck theOthers..."
is to solipsistic to attract an audience. Please be aware that these are
trying times, and if our Nielsens slip too much, I will have to beat you
soundly about the head and neck.
Your pal,
Scotto
=========================================================================
Date: Thu, 16 Dec 1993 16:33:39 -0600
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: moores7518
Subject: Re: IN POOR TASTE
In article <01H6JUTC2JOIAND1BH@>, THE KIDD <GCC94ISA02@> writes:
> Scotto, homeboy, Fnordian thinker, what's up with that? Are we to
> enforce intellectual private property? Not even a chance. If you
> consult the MATRIX's handbook on intellectual property under the
> heading for "Trouble Shooting the Cerebral Landlord?", you will find in
> section 3, that forwarded internet mail, must be: Noted as being in
> fact Forwarded, and must be at least margianally interesting and/or
> ammusing. Anyone who found it neither interesting or ammusing, well
> you'll just have to consult the handbook for my punishment.
> And let it be known NOW that I plead the fifth on where I'm ticklish!
>
> Since you undoubtabley know of the chapter in the MATRIX's handbook
> about which I speak, did you also raise your eyebrows in fascinated
> elation upon discovering section 3, a.k.a. "Everything you know is
> wrong -->FNORD<--" ?.
>
> BTW Pal Scotto noted earlier this week, in respnse to my commentary
> on Knight Jurqui's "Suck my dick like Lisa should" entry, that Knight
> Jurqui is entitled to his opinions and the right to express them.
> Verily Scotto, as are we all entitled to such expression. FNORD?
> --
> *THE KIDD*
>>
> "PHILOGYNY IS POWER"
Dear Mr. The Kidd,
Mentioning poor taste is not isomorphic with enforcing a given opinion, only
isomorphic with a given mention of said poor taste, which was, darn it all,Mr.
The Kidd, but the gang around here, why, *sigh*, we just expect so much more
from you, (wipes a tear), and when you turn in somebody else's test paper,we
all feel so goshdarned disappointed. We know yer potential, when we hadthat
parent-Fnordian conference about you the other day that's all we could talk
about was how somebody who consistently and everafter redefines what POWERis
with the mere flick of his wrist oughta be able to come through in a pinch,
dig? I know, I know, saw the appropriate attributions, but that wasn't the
point, and also, "Everything you know is WRONG" was a misprint in themanual,
when they shouldaoughta said "EveryONE you know is WRONG, meaning, to yerown
self be true, you relativists you, and if you don't groove the way I groove,
then I guess it's the Solipsists' Rag fer me. Feel free, at yer leisure, to
forward the entire contents of alt.religion.kibology at yer earliest
convenience. They call it "Gene Flow" in certain circles, but I call it
POLLUTION! We got a PURITY here that *They* ain't got! Yeah, don't mean to
scare you, but when the aliens came down and started Fnord-L, they had one
thing in mind, which was first to drive off that Pat guy, and second to
alienate EVERYONE! Freedom of speech isn't free -- the aliens bought usoff!
Your pal,
Scotto
=========================================================================
Date: Mon, 27 Dec 1993 19:28:49 EST
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: tommy pynchon <ST002578>
Subject: fnord-l
just trying out my new found electronic capabilities. Ignore this as it is
probably just an halucination anyway. Keep up the good work on the spam
project!
Kali is All!
El Salvadore Dali Parton Me I never promised you a rose garden
Tommy
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