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========================================================================
Date: Tue, 1 Feb 1994 05:25:05 EST
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: Sandy <sforten@>
Subject: Don't Worry

I don't know why everyone picks on you so. You seem smart and nice to me.
They are just a lot of bullies if you ask me. I don't know what they are
talking about half the time and the other half it is so mean.It makes memad,
it does. Anyway don't you worry, honey, bad people always get theres in the
end. That Mongo fellow and that Tappy, he sounds disturbed. And that guy in
that dress and I think that nice Melanie Willis is right and they arefllwing
that Satan, who gets his claws on you.Sometime I think you are following him
too but then I think no its just a fad like eating goldfish like we did.Andi
can't even mention that other girls name its so vulgar, She should take
Melanies advise and go to church. When I read that note fromthat guy with a
bunch of letters for a name it near broke my heart. leave him alone cant you
see he is trying. You take care now hon.
=========================================================================
Date: Tue, 1 Feb 1994 06:31:31 EST
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: tepid <TIPPY>
Subject: Query

Ummm...I know this is gonna sound dumb but has anyone seen my shears?
=========================================================================
Date: Tue, 1 Feb 1994 16:25:20 -0400
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: scott lesser <LESSER>
Subject: here, we'll have a real fag step up to the mike

i can't believe this - i'm about to acknowledge the existence of THE KIDD.

ok, KIDD, let's get this "straight" first: i'm not a real fag, but i
occasionally play one in the leather bars. i'll take the part for now, as
anything that makes you squirm as much as the concept of homosexuality seems
to is something i want to strongly identify with. your ignorance andoutright
prejudice is disgusting to watch.

you want to put down joe provo because he recognizes your lack of knowledgeand
relative stupidity? calling him queer ain't the way to do it. that's abadge
of honor amongst those more illuminated than yourself. you quote crowley;you
are aware that he was bisexual, right? you see, one of the first bighurdles
to freeing your mind is getting past society's inhibitions of sexual
expression. one of the most positive aspect of those who are homosexual or
bisexual, and can openly express themselves as such, is that in the processof
doing so they must confront a society that seeks to repress their natural
sexuality, and through that they take the first step toward being anilluminated
individual. i don't care about your sexual orientation, but you still needto
take that step.

now, i know joe provo and have even had the pleasure of meeting him once, in
the course of a research project he's conducting, and as much as i hate tolet
you down, i don't think he's gay. what i do know about him is that he wasone
of the people that worked to get this list started several years ago, andthat
without him, you wouldn't be here now. also, he's a unix consultant whoknows
his shit about computers. as for social skills, with people worthimpressing,
he does a pretty good job.

occassionally, you come to close making an intersting point; by the issuesyou
raise, you certainly seem to want to walk the path. (do i need to make this
metaphor more clear for you to comprehend?) however, if you believe you
already know everything you need to know, you're very wrong. may i ask youwhat
you're doing wasting your money on college for if this is true? even ifyour
mind "contains all knowledge", or some similar bullshit quote you
half-understood, you still need to learn how to access that knowledge.

i bet you love getting this attention don't you? why else would you spendso
much time trying to elicit it? however, if you spent a little timelistening,
instead of babbling with no intent other than ego gratification, you might
learn something here.

i've seen POWER, Kidd, and it's not what you think it is.

you're eating too much dogma food, and the resultant shit reeks to highhell.

this is the end of my occassionly necessary "nice" anti-homophobia rant.don't
make me drive a whole two hours away from here and silence you with more
traditional methods.

to the rest of you, i apologize for being clearly less than obfuscatory, but
to be less so would risk allowing this poor child grow up and voterepublican.
i couldn't bear that on my consience.

we now return to more self-indulgent details about my personal life onanother
channel.

[click]
=========================================================================
Date: Wed, 2 Feb 1994 01:10:20 EST
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: "Daniel A. Foss" <DFOSS@CCVM.SUNYSB.EDU>
Organization: State University of New York at Stony Brook
Subject: thousand year old jesusfuck tradition

Barbara Templar Hall draws on considerable knowledge of the Crusades,
their disastrous conclusion at the Siege of Acre, last Christian outpost
in Terre Sainte of Outremer, in 1291: The much-mourned yet never avenged
fall of the city to the Mamluk Sultan Qutuz. (The first two sultans, Baybars
and Qutuz, are readily spellable; but my Czech has quit on me, and evenunaided
by any Czech, just on Drugs, I couldn't handle the third sultan,whatsisname,
who may have taken Acre, leaving acres of Christians well-slain by swiftsword.
Alas, all perished save those who ran real fast, leaving women and childrenin
the dust, where they were carried off as slaves to al-Qahirah, Egypt'scapital
since days of Fatimid glory never to be seen again. Which today, as theMexico
City of Africa, Cairo, it bedazzles the nose with pungent stench of extra-
Pyramidal symptoms. al-Qahirah, unlike Cairo, had baths, which as theIslamic
civilization was the legitimate continuator of the Roman, the latter ofcourse
having invented the veiling of women, which impressed Muhammad no end, asreal
civilized, like, man, you know. Pick all this up from Salman Rushdie, whonever
stops complaining about Gen Aidid's fleas, but is greatful for living in a
neighborhood where there aren't any Muslims, just good ole Hindus from down
home who don't know he's Muslim because that does not show up in a Marathi
accent. When in Bombay, never open the bomb bay door; the Bombay gin is
another story. Also the Chinese, the majority group. Nice Normal people.
Statistically speaking, the most Normal people in the world, and anydifference
from you and a Chinese woman is racist and sexist. Hastabe. Don't even think
of refuting it. Just count.

Beating about the bush, which according to Andrea Dworkin is one of the
most dreadful things men do, look at Pornography. If you can't look at
Pornography, she's got whole chapters, whole books, devoted to detailed
descriptions of the dirtiest pictures, hardest core dirty books, inIntercourse
(1987) and Pornography: Men Possessing Women (1979[1990]); and I'm proud to
say I *never* had anything to do with the horrid stuff she is talking about.
Weirdest thing, you know, is what comes out of this is, the Normal way that
Normals, like all of you, do sex, dirty sex as it's supposed to be, is even
weirder than the *wrong* way I do it, which is very clean. Lizzy makes metake
an AIDS test daily, I love her for that kind of attention. Next time I go
up there, I'll bring my own doctor, I figure. So I'm eyeing the women in the
Med School.

Beating around the bush, because the sad fact is that Acre was doomed by
Interservice Rivalries, which were worse than the budget cuts. The Knights
of St John of the Hospital, today the Knights of Malta, did not relate at
all well to the Knights of the Temple, whose proud heritage Barbara Templar
Hall carries on. And in her chosen sobriquet, jesusfuck, she recapitulated
the most heinous of the charges against the Templars, dozens burned at the
stake, others crippled by the Inquisition, maimed, mutilated, if you like
that kind of Porno which turned on Europe for the lowest part of the High
Middle Ages: All because Philip IV The Fair, one of the fouler and least
fair Kings of France, and there were very many of them, you know, wanted
to Possess himself of that which the Natural Man of the Middle Ages desired
above everything, people of any and all genders inclusive. LAND. Land owned
by the Templars in default of repayment of debt, or to be held while thelord
was on Crusade and became a POW somewhere on the Arab frontier with Chinaand,
well, shit happens, and vast estates grew enormously, and nobody else inFrance
understood the international banking and currency business; the Italianskept
clear of the place on account of what Philip IV did to Benedict VIII atAnagni,
Italy, which the Pope wouldn't or couldn't talk about before he died of
apoplexy, after which Philip IV's agents, who infiltrated the College of
Cardinals, got controlling interest in the Church, and moved the Popery tothe
suburbs of France, filed suit to have Benedict VIII's corpse burned at the
stake on account of what kind of dirty act he did with Philip IV whose fault
it wasn't.

I was going to talk about the charge about what the Templars had to do to
a crucifix during the secretest part of the initiation ritual, so secretthat
the Inquisition could make it up and nobody ever heard of such stuff, which
inspired Barbara's choice of jesusfuck. If this had been a slightly earlier
historical period, Barbara could have cut albums, got filthy rich ofreviling
religion, but it's just for fun now, nobody cares. Sing it, Barbara.

One criticism of tonight's concert. Barbara sang an anguished song in one
of her longer numbers on record about how the world is awfully confused and
who knows where it's going. Typical beginner's mistake, she'll grow out of
it. The problem is, the world is going pretty much nowhere, and is going
there more and more rapidly, threating millions with getting strangled with
barbed wire and beheading by hacksaws in once boring Traditional placeswhere
everybody who lived there before the Atlacatl Battalion moved in was killed,
and only because of the famine to people not fear ghosts enough to stayaway.
The Atlacatl Battalion today directs traffic, having run out of people tokill,
so places hitherto untouched by persecution of people whom somebody thought
they didn't like their looks and besides, if it occurred to anybody to be
a subversive, just look at a face like that, they'd think it first. Even
if there aren't any subversives, nobody ever heard of a subversive since
1989, and the last subversive with his last breath said, "Ah, fuck it," and
the superstitious peasants asked him, "fuck what," but he was already dead.

It was 1983. Or 1984. No matter. Emil Oestereicher, until his sudden and
hushed up death from entirely, they say, natural causes, world's greatest
living sociological theorist, whose theoriess remain unknown since, "I khof
tenure, so vhy publisch vitch vitiates minink und purrrrrpuz of eksistenz,
lif, enchoy, do nozzink." Eva, wife of Dr W, and I left the funeral parlor,
slipping through the sourcream of the NYC intellectual community, and Big
Stanley caught my eye, which was easy since I couln't see, and told me he
was publishing my Thingie in his The Sixties Without Apology; which the
Village Voice said of, that they never knew the Sixties were *that boring*;
and there was only one bright spot, which was my Thingie, and it got theonly
two words of Good Reviews I ever got, "frequently hilarious."

Eva and I walked out into the street. Why did we cross the street? To get
to the other side. What was on the other side? The Whitney Museum. The true
upper middle class person, which Eva was, would never pass up consumingculture
just because of death of oldest and dearest fiend, as Emil was."Khongkarians
are eeeevil." He loved to say that. He'd lift his brown glass of brown beer
brownly in a brownish student bar and say, nobody could have unheard him, "I
Khaf Fock Tree Honnert Veeemen!" These days, nobody thinks of that as real
volume business. But in 1964, it was Serious Commitment to Sex, whichentailed
Death everpresent, triumph over Risk and Impending Doom, to attain True
Liberation. All the men from Mailer to Miller to Hemingway to Sartre saidso.
Even Charles Bukowsky.

We sang a Brecht song with Tcherman accents as on the Spanish Civil War
Songs album Emil always played.

Und tchust bekaus he's yoomun
He dozzznt vont a pistol to khis khed
He vonts no zerrrvants onnnder khim
Und no boss ohvah his khed.

Zo left too tree foughr
Left too tree foughr
Too da verrrkers vee most go
Martch on inda verkers United Frondt
Koz you arrrre a verrrrker too.

We cried, as we left the affluence and eminence of the funereal pompbehind
us. Before us stood the magnificent temple of cultural art.

There was a sign at the ticket clerk's window, not the one which said
Voluntary Contribution $2.00, or more likely $6.00. what except trash will
let you in, this was New York City! for two dollars, but the one which said,
TUESDAYS FROM 6:30 TO 8:30 PM ARE BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE MOBIL CORPORATION.

"Suppose they cancel," I said, "I'm seriously worried about how to reset
my alarm clock. You mean, two whole hours disappear from the day, zip,whoosh,
and there is nothing but grayish limbo until it's officially eight thirty?
That, my good woman, is *scary*."

Daniel A. Foss
arts and leisure editor
=========================================================================
Date: Wed, 2 Feb 1994 04:21:06 EST
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: Barbara Hall <schwing>
Subject: Re: dubious existence at this time hence order halt to terror
In-Reply-To: <9401311855.AA15692@>; from "Daniel A.
Foss" at Jan 31, 94 11:20 am

:) other favorite, *schizophrenia*, was coined about the same time, 1903, by
:) Bleuler; *schizein* = cracked + *phrenes* = guts, as of anathlete-soldier.
:) (One Greek word vaguely denoting some aspect of "mind" is as good asanother
:) as a snowjob on the classically illiterate.) The worst possible situation
:) would find the doctor explaining to relatives, "The patient's diagnosisis
:) 'cracked up.'" (With the emergence of fine distinctions from research at
:) first mere typologizing, other *disorders*, not you understand true*diseases
:)
:) Cloud Nebula: "For whatever the role of biological impulses, there still
:) remains the further question of why it is that the frequency of deviant
:) behavior varies within different social structures and how it happensthat
:) the deviations have different shapes and patterns in different social
:) structures." Suggesting:
:)
:) 1. Does "different" make any difference to the reader; and wherein ifso?
:) 2. We are in the presence of nonprogress, as of 1956 (pub. of STSS)and
:) 1894 (pub. E. Durkheim, Rules of Sociological Method); the contradictory
:) qualitative cum quantitative definitions remain; the word "pathological,"
:) only, has been euphemized as "deviant."

foss,lemme see if am grokking what you are saying: you aren;t by any chance
saying that certain differences in people is bad would you? that maybe
people who cross this fine and ever changing in position line between what
the norm is and what the norm is not might be considered deviant? and just
who draws and redraws that line? oh, I remember, oprah does, geraldo used
to, but not anymore, move over bacon, here's something meatier, and hey,
while we're here, we might as well quantify those deviants as being
pathological eh? I mean, hell yes, there has got to be some sort of
*disease* going on there, else they would just stay on the normal side of
the line right?

:) car's home was its family, would the palpability of "social structure"
:) diminish? We know that the latter occurred; the causality is unstudied to
:) this day, so far as I know. How far down into the nether layers of our
:) culturally filtered signification system of mixed metaphors did we need
:) to descend to expunge magical influences of this image-laden word salad?
:) Why do we say, "social structure," not "social cavity," more vaginal,less
:) penile; or alternatively "social mineshaft"?

I for one, consider the vagina to be a structure, how about social cell? I
mean, hell, it's definitely less penile...

:) list as a whole consensually agrees that I should be done to as GilHardwick
:) (only person expelled from ANTHRO-L by listowner) was. You recall thatGil

never foss, never....

:)
:) >And cut the racist Jew thing too. All kinds of races and religions havemade
:) >this country what it is, for better and for worse. The last thing weneed on
:) >this list is racist chest-beating. For shame, StephanieNelson

reminds me of a guy who constantly beat his head on the wall and when asked
why, he replied 'because it feel SO good when I stop'
don;t let her bug ya, I never liked anyone who used the words 'for shame'
anyways....

:) This whole thing was *crazy*.

you don;t say?

:) As horror goes, it's been fun.

as always...

:) Daniel A. Foss

--
jesusfuck
=========================================================================
Date: Wed, 2 Feb 1994 04:27:46 EST
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: "Daniel A. Foss" <DFOSS@CCVM.SUNYSB.EDU>
Organization: State University of New York at Stony Brook
Subject: being a Knower and Explainer

dear jesusfuck:

There are certain matters which in the course of becoming an expert and
authority who is supposed to Know even if nothing can be Done, you learnthat
you will look like a perfect idiot and give away the game if you state what
you mean. A leader doesn't have magic tricks, he has charisma, which is the
Greek word for magic tricks. And it looks unscientific to say the patient's
diagnosis is Cracked Up, so you use the Greek for Cracked Up; which is so
incredibly scientific that billions of dollars in this country alone in the
last generation or maybe 10 years has been used as Drano to find out whatall
the different kinds of Cracked Up have in common, which in the end theydecided
that the Greek word for Cracked Up meant nothing you could nail down, but it
was too useful as a "heuristic device" to throw out just like that.

As an expert and authority you will find yourself handicapped fromReality
being gendered male, if you have followed what I mean by that all theseyears,
but you can make up for it, at least in part, by being taller than the guys,
which makes you one of the guys. The word *respect* is Latin for looking up
at something taller than you; and the male consciousness signals that what's
taller than you is more man than you. You want it around on your side. The
same kinds of feelings are much more pronounced in the gorilla.

Daniel A. Foss
=========================================================================
Date: Tue, 1 Feb 1994 23:02:21 -0600
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: moores7518
Subject: My Monopoly party

It was Monopoly night at the old homestead last night, and let me tell you,
when Scotto hosts Monopoly night, boy do the stars come out! That's 'cuz I
host it at *night*!

Naturally my good friend Laurel was there, along with her second cousin,Crank
Boy. Crank Boy invited his old grade school buddy, the Devil, and Laurel
called the Archangel Gabriel, whom we hadn't seen since Trivial Pursuitnight.
In addition, my new drinking buddy, Beerbelly the Invisible Clown, stoppedby.

"I'm the wheelbarrow," I announced as we settled in around the table. The
wheelbarrow, you see, has the most aerodynamic design of all the pieces.Crank
Boy was the motorcar, the most environmentally unsound of all the pieces.
Laurel wanted to be the top hat, but Satan wouldn't let her.

"You have to be the thimble," Satan said, "because you're the only girl, and
girls love to sew." Sometimes Satan says the darndest things!

So Satan picked the top hat, and Beerbelly the Invisible Clown decided to be
the dog. Gabriel was the banker, which meant "no sneaking five hundreddollar
bills from the pile, you rascals!"

Word soon spread that an action-packed game of Monopoly was happening overat
the ol' Scotto homestead, and soon the V.I.P.s started to trickle in. Iknew
things were hopping when my good friend Charo shimmied through the kitchen
looking for the Cheez Whiz, her new beau Gavin Macloud in tow.

Late into the evening, things started to get hot and heavy. Satan was notonly
building hotels on Boardwalk, but casinos as well. Beerbelly had capturedall
the railroad properties, and refused to stop singing "I've been working onthe
railroad!" at the top of his drunken lungs. And Crank Boy had won thebeauty
contest *three times*, which certainly spelled some kind of doom for therest
of the universe.

"I guess I've just got that certain sine quo non, you know?" Crank Boy said.

Laurel and I were almost finished with our first bottle of Mad Dog when
Beerbelly had an excellent suggestion. "Let's take all the five hundreddollar
bills out of circulation," he said, "and replace them with an equivalent
amount of *illegal drugs*."

Well, it didn't take a quantum physicist to recognize the sheerunadulterated
brilliance of *that* plan. We called an intermission to go find our various
stashes. Gabriel agreed to stay and guard the game from vicioustroublemakers,
like that ridiculous Ed McMahon, who had a side bet on Beerbelly with James
Brown.

"C'mon," Ed cajoled, "just slip a few hundreds into Beerbelly's pile, andyou
may already be a winner!"

"I live in heaven," Gabriel replied drolly. "I *am* already a winner, dig?"

I was the first to return, with a big water cooler full of liquid LSD.Laurel
returned with several large bags of hashish, some peyote buttons (cleverlysewn
to the front of her vest), and a big cactus with a tapper attached to it.
Crank Boy came back with a crate of Robitussin, and we had to remind him,
"Illegal drugs, Crank Boy, *illegal* drugs."

Art Garfunkel wandered by, but we ignored him, just like the rest of theworld.

Satan came back with a whole host of nasty, nasty designer drugs. Beerbelly
arrived with all the Ecstasy he could find, some crystal meth, and some
forgotten favorites from the seventies.

"Angel dust!" Gabriel exclaimed. "How adorable!"

Crank Boy finally returned with a Hefty bag full of cocaine. He was coveredin
blood.

"Do you know how many innocent drug dealers I had to kill to get this stuff
this late at night?" he asked, obviously irritated.

"Let's get on with the game!" Laurel replied, glassy-eyed, scooping up thedice
into her mouth and spitting them across the room. "Double sixes!" she
exclaimed.

A crowd now formed around us, hushed with desperate anticipation, like the
crowds on the pro bowling tour but better dressed. Out of the corner of myeye
I saw an exhausted Gordon Jump pouring himself a glass from my water cooler,
but I decided not to say anything.

Very soon, chaos reigned. Satan had been winning, but once he got hold ofsome
of Beerbelly's Ecstasy, he was suddenly handing out his properties left and
right, all smiles, saying, "I don't want to sound like a Hallmark card here,
but...have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"No," Laurel replied, in between huge lungfuls of the latest in Moroccan
gardening techniques, "and by the way, I don't date guys with *horns* ontheir
foreheads."

Crank Boy and I, meanwhile, manned the water cooler and began passing out
glasses indiscriminately. Crank Boy's Hefty bag split open, and a mad
star-studded scramble ensued. Beerbelly was speeding and juggling nineteen
invisible balls, not that we could tell, since he was invisible too.

"I've got an idea!" someone suddenly shouted (I think it was Simon Le Bon,
though I can hardly be sure). "Let's take over the city!"

And so we charged out into the streets, overturning cars, setting houses on
fire, ripping up huge slabs of concrete, and looting local businesses.Crank
Boy was guzzling Robitussin like crazy, and could barely hold the automatic
weapon that Tony Bennett had handed him. They called in the National Guard,
but Charo wowed them with a wonderful belly dance while the rest of us snuck
around behind them and ripped them apart with our drug-saturated bare handsand
teeth. The city was soon totally under our control.

Tomorrow, we're playing Risk.
=========================================================================
Date: Wed, 2 Feb 1994 06:49:42 EST
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: taipan <TIPPY>
Subject: Oh, really?

TREPANNING FOR GOLD
1.To lie in wait, as in ambush
TRICKS ARE FOR KIDDS
2.To move furtively; sneak
WHY DO YOU THINK THEY CALL IT THE "NET"?
3.To exist unobserved or unsuspected
GET THE PICTURE?

Taipan, dancing all night at the Crypto-a-Go-Go
=========================================================================
Date: Wed, 2 Feb 1994 12:28:32 -0500
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: John Marsh <libjrm>
Subject: Re: missing in plausible
In-Reply-To: <9401310016.AA09711@>

On Sun, 30 Jan 1994, Daniel A. Foss wrote:

> One thing is certain, viz, that you cannot Go Home Again. John Marsh
> <libjrm> wrote, in a post to FNORD-L, Thu, 27 Jan 1994
> 15:26:05 -0500:
>
> >'course, Leri didn't burn Lizzy. Leri just scorched her a bit. Iwonder if
> >Lizzy even bothered to wonder about her deleterious effect on Leri.
> >
> >But the question on everyone's e-lips, Dan, as b<c> pointed out,is:
> >
> >Dan & Lizzy - What Happened?
> >
> >Care to enlighten us?
>
> [Frankly, no. - DAF]
>
> a fool forever,
> Daniel A. Foss
> Professor, Military Science and Tactics

WHAT?!? Daniel A. Foss waxing RETICENT? I'm appalled, aghast, that a man
of your legendary verbiage could dismiss such an honest (if perhaps
indiscreet) query from one among your legion of fans with a lousy TWO WORDS.

I guess I can take solace in the notion that, if nothing else, I've
managed to elicit concision from you, which is, admittedly, the last thing
I expected.

Small solace, that.

LipGerm
=========================================================================
Date: Wed, 2 Feb 1994 17:36:11 -0500
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: 00bcpalmer
Subject: Harder, Harder

Dear denizens of FNORD-L,

I am on my way to a spiritualist camp called Camp Chesterfield. I expect tobe
hearing from the dead there, so I'll be listening for any of your voices.Any
of them. DO you hear me? Any of you! That would mean you're all *dead*! for
those of you still in high school. *high* school -- get it??!! Haw Haw HawHAW
HAW HAW hawhaw hawhaw Haw. It also means I'm dead, but I know that.

Count Choculafuck
=========================================================================
Date: Thu, 3 Feb 1994 08:48:12 -0500
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: "Joseph Z. Provo" <PROVO>
Subject: Re: barker, j @marbles, lost boo hoo doo

>Greetings! What is discussed on this here list?
Well, this here list is a foetid, rotting corpse that loves to jam with the
archangel, juggles seven seals, bashes newcomers over the head with the end
irons, and overall outstays it's welcome and tends to leave festering boils
when it touches human flesh. Do not operate heavy machinary when under the
influence of this list; consult a physician (or, rather, mortician) if this
list --or your subscription to it-- continues for more than 10 days.

Thank you, come again. NEXT!

joe "you want fries with that? regular, or ones shaped like doc foss?"provo,
serving up the finest in fried fast-foaming discourse since 1985...
=========================================================================
Date: Thu, 3 Feb 1994 11:08:54 -0500
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: bakerj@
Subject: Terrible Beauty

This list is very strange, but I am far stranger.
Here's an example:
Last week, my girlfriend was annoying me with her constant, hyena-like
laughter, so I sewed all of her Cabbage Patch dolls together at the hip
to create Cabbage Patch Siamese Quintuplets (tm). In an unfortunate side
development, she was able to market my invention and become quite wealthy,
whereupon she left me for a washed-up film star of no small fame. I was
forced to sell my juicer in order to pay the resulting thugs.
Anybody else like to share any seminal experiences involving poppets?

Jackal
=========================================================================
Date: Thu, 3 Feb 1994 14:34:17 -0500
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: 00bcpalmer
Subject: in/out rage

a reader writes

>HOO-AHH!

Will the teenage malcontents who continue to use words such as are not found
in Merriam Webster's recent Tenth Edition kindly refrain from further com-
mentary? Elsewise, I shall be forced to exuent from this doomed-to-hell list
yet again.

count choculafuck
=========================================================================
Date: Thu, 3 Feb 1994 22:04:35 EST
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: Does it really matter? <TIPPY>
Subject: Manifest O' Destiny

PRERAMBLE:The story which follows has been laboriously reconstructed from
many minutes of investigative reporting. The reporter made up many dozens of
interviews and sought multiple verification of sources through hourly con-
sultation of the I Ching, repeated questioning of the Mystic 8-Ball, and
sifting through hours of The Patty Duke Show in search of details whichcould
either confirm or refute his hastily and flimsily constructed hypothesis.
What follows is a chilling and unalterably mind-numbing tale of corruption
in low places, difficult to scratch. Like any puzzle, many pieces have been
lost, fallen between the cushions of a too worn sofa or perhaps chewed into
unrecognizability by Bruno, the lovable family dog. Whatever the case, the
story presented here is true, and only the events, names of personsinvolved,
names of organizations, places, the time-line of events presented, and the
words used to describe and delineate all of the aforementioned have been
changed in a desperate yet feeble attempt to stave off criticism.

1952: America, in the monkey-grip of postwar prosperity, was tapping itstoes
to the dissonant strains of the First British Invasion while its college
students engaged in campus-wide bouts of erotic asphyxiation and Suzy Home-
maker learned to give a decent sleeve-job in state-mandated prostitution
camps. All was not hot dogs and shindigs in this fair nation, however. The
National Agency for the Promulgation of Secrecy, or NAPS, was engaged in a
series of activities that would, when brought to light years later, resultin
a long series of televised congressional hearings that would cause many
Americans to swear off daytime viewing forever. (To Be Discontinued)
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Date: Fri, 4 Feb 1994 10:55:41 -0500
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: THE KIDD <GCC94ISA02@>
Subject: Re: in/out rage

>a reader writes

>>HOO-AHH!

>Will the teenage malcontents who continue to use words such as are not
>found in Merriam Webster's recent Tenth Edition kindly refrain fromfurther
>commentary? Elsewise, I shall be forced to exuent from this
>doomed-to-hell list yet again.

>count choculafuck

Well I'll tell ya there pard, not more than a fort-night ago when I
was slamming yer girlfriend from the floor to the ceiling, she was
screaming, and whimperin an carryin on like a banshee. After we wuz
done, and layin side by side in yer bed (she told me ya wouldn't be
home fer a while yet) I started skimmin through yer Merr-Web recent
10th edition to try an find the definintion of all those huzzahs yer
girl was exclaiming not more than 10 minutes ago. I'll tell ya there
count I couldn't find a damn one, but to be real frank like (frank is
one of the most honest people I know) I didn't really mind;)
--

Cardinal Sin
Church of the Inscrutable Taboo
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Date: Fri, 4 Feb 1994 16:43:39 EST
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: Tippy <TIPPY>
Subject: Last Rites

Paging Master Juan Pedestal, your opthamologist's disappointment has been
canceled. As an iconoclast at heart, I have never had much truck with gods
or assholes who would be gods. Hymnal writing not being my bag, *Dad*, I
shall instead content myself with being above suspicion but beneathcontempt.
YOUR Slot, sir, and you are very, very welcome to it.

Ciao
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Date: Sat, 5 Feb 1994 01:21:51 EST
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: TIPPY

Gee, everyone, look at all this space. Why, I bet if we could just
stop all this bickering, why, gee, I bet we could put on a SHOW! What d'ya
say, kids?!

Andy Hardly
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Date: Sun, 6 Feb 1994 03:12:28 EST
Sender: New Ways of Thinking List <FNORD-L@UBVM.BITNET>
From: The Great Grape Ape <enggill@>
Subject: The Good Ol' Days

Y'know that reminds me, sonny,...it reminds of the time we did thegreat
fire dance, heh, heh. We were into nude ways of thinking then. Dancin'fools,
that's what we were, boy, but we had love in our hearts, goddamnit, boy,can't
you see?! Not like you new-fangled jaded from the cradle semi-automatons. I
guess it don't matter anymore. I'm plumb outta Ubik. And the sinks backed
up. But should you see Mort Lemon tell him his poetry stinks. I'd appreciate
it. Tell 'im The Great Grape Ape sent ya. Ask him if he's got my packingpea-
nuts, it's been three goddamn months already and enough's enough. Enough's
sure a funny word, ain't it? E-nuff. Heh. Yeah, Mark's here with us. He'sone
of us now. He's fine, he's fine. Sure he is. He asks after Mabel and thekids
but there's still no word. I sorta feel sorry for him. Then I think aboutReba
and lose all compassion. And that bastard Mort Lemon. Where's my packingpea-
nuts, you traitorous swine!?! You thievin' bastard! Sorry, but it pisses me
off. And his poetry, if you can call it that, stinks! STINKS, I say. Buthe'll
never listen. God must really like assholes, he made so many. When thepeanuts
were gone, I knew he'd taken them. Who else could it have been? No one,that's
who, no one. So it hadda be him. Bastard. I knew I had to get outta town,
though. Lemon whines a lot about his misfortune, but what about mine? What,
my pain's not real, my pain's a lot of chopped hooey. Granted, I can stillsee,
but seein' ain't all it's cracked up to be. Seein' IS pain, boy, sheer pain.
You don't see me going around, allegedly "composing""poetry," and forcing iton
unsuspecting passersby. No, I got my flaws but poetry ain't one of 'em.Never
said I was perfect, boy, but I'm a sight better'n Mort Lemon'll ever be, nopun
intended. Consider it a bonus, boy, a bonus for a job done good. Yeah, boy,you
done real good. See, I was gonna use those peanuts. Eventually I was gonnaneed
'em, and when it came time to up and leave...you guessed it, they was gone.
Three months. Y'gotta draw the line somewhere, kid, and I draw it afterthree
months. Bastard. A bargain is a goddamn bargain and that's wherecivilization's
fallin' apart at the goddamn seams. Just throw it away, don't bother ta mend
it. No one cares. Not any more. And I don't rightly know that I blame them.
Yeah, I've often thought of rippin' out my eyes, but I guess I'm just achic-
ken shit, boy. THAT'S my flaw. The fatal flaw. Goddamn Mort Lemon! Damn his
eyes! Those goddamn Rangers too, boy. Mustn't forget them now. Hell of it is
I didn't see through Lemon earlier. I'm too trusting, that's anotherflaw,boy.
You keepin' count? And the peanuts makes three, I suppose. Yeah, strikethree.
I'm out. Outta my skull. Where's my medicine, boy?........Ahhhh...that'sbet-
ter. Yeah, much better. Thanks. Now where was I...oh, yeah, the farm. Bought
that farm to my eternal regret. Some obscure state law that I still don't
understand fully allowed Lemon to take control of the farm. Booted Mark'sass
and mine right out. We had nothin',kid, zero, zip, zilch. Like I said,nothin'.
That was before Reba came along. That bastard's plagued my every step for as
long as I care to remember, hell, as long as I CAN remember. Which ain'twhat
it used to be, kid. My memory, I mean. Don't remember much before theRangers,
actually, but I don't know if that's a blessing or a curse. Guess I'll never
know. That's four, but who's countin', eh, kid? Who's countin'? I lost count
around number three-thousand six-hundred ninety-two. Poor Mark. Poor Reba.
If they'd only known. The day of the assholes. I'm tired now, kid, and Iwanna
go lay down. Get a lit