$$$$ $$ $$$$ $ $ $$ $$ $ $ $ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$$$ $ $$ $$$ $$ $$$ $$$ $$$ $$ $ $$ $$ $$ $ $$ $ $$$$ $ $ $$ $$ $ $ $$ $$ $ $$ $ $$ $$ $ $ $$ $$ $$ $ $$ $$$ $ $$ $ $ $$ $$ $$ $$$$ $$$$$$ $ $$ $$$$ $$ $$ $ $$ $ $$ $$$ $$ $ $$ $ $$$ $$ $$ $ $$ $$ $$ $$ $ $$ $ $$$ $$ $$ $ $$ $$ $$ $$ $ $ $$$ $ $$$ $$ $ $ $$ $$$ $ $ $$ $ $$$$ $ .oO[Issue #8]Oo. .oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oO Contents ~~~~~~~~ [1] Kodez? Kodez for me? [2] The History Of Phreaking by RedBoxChiliPepper/PLA [3] Gothic Horror! Funky Beats! File List ~~~~~~~~~ acfind .irc Area Code Finder IRC Script enochian.dic Enochian Password Dictionary delphoto.gif Acidflux, Hamburglar & Deadlocke desperdo.tar Desperado Cracker E-Mail Address - delirium@cyberspace.org ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ -+Dist Sites+- BBS Terminal Drift (510)743-0603 BBS Whombat Communications (512)883-7543 BBS Independent Nation (315)656-4179 BBS The Land Of Rape And Honey (408)883-9535 BBS Underworld 1995 (514)683-1894 FTP EnCee's Text Archive ftp.biohazard.com WWW Delirium Webpage http://www.compumedia.com/~jnoonan .oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oO You've hacked into a foreign system, root starts paging you, you jump into chat, he starts talking in a foreign language you don't understand and you've got nothing witty to say! What do you do? Well just for those situations we've compiled a list of international translations for the phrase "I call from Sweden you have kodez for me?". English: I call from Sweden you have kodez for me? German: Ich rufe von Schweden an; Haben Sie die code fuer mich? Slovenian: Klicem iz Sweden, imas kode zame? Finnish: Soitan ruotsista, olisiko sinulla koodeja minulle? French: je telphone de la Suede, avez-vous des je sais pas codes pour moi? Italian: Chiamo dalla Svezia avete carte telefoniche per me??? Hebrew: Ani Mitkasher Msweden, Yesh Lach kodim Beshvily? Spanish: Llamo de Suecia, tienes algunas claves para mi? Swedish: jag ringer fran Sverige - du hade koder till mig? Mockswedish: I cell frum Svedee yuoo hefe-a kudez fur me-a? Bork Bork Bork! .oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oO Every real phreaker in the scene knows his history so here's a brief summary of how it all began and how it's progressed through the years... In the begining, there was one phreak who started it all. His name was Bob and every phreak in the world could eventually trace their origins to Bob. Bob, born in Tribune, Kansas, was a homeless man who was rummaging through a dumpster by the phone company building looking for the night's supper and some alluminum cans (Bob was an earth-conscience wino) when he came across a large blue manual labeled "Southwestern Bell's Blue Manual of Phone Company Tones E911 That Ordinary Citizens Should Never Never Never Ever Never Have Access To!" Gee, thought Bob, I could use this very large manual tonight to cover myself up with while I sleep on the park bench. That night, while having a little trouble sleeping (Bob had a bad case of insomnia), Bob began to read this manual and began to think about all he'd found and the next morning, sitting on the City Hall's steps used a Campbell's soup can, some string and various other electronic parts and assembled the world's first "Blue Box." With it, Bob was able to call anywhere on the block by using his blue box to mimick the phone company's own tones. Later that winter he met a man named John Draper who was in town for an anti-smoking conference who discovered that with a simple modification, Bob's blue box could call any-where in the world. A year later, in 1978, a lot had happened to John Draper. One morning he was looking around in the kitchen for his Frosted Flakes and was pissed when he found out that his room mate had eaten them all so he had to settle for Froot Loops instead. He ate four bowls so he could finally get to the bottom of the box to get the toy surprise, which was a plastic dildo for kids! After playing with the dildo for several hours, he found that when he blew into the end of it, he would hear a sound very close to 26,000,000 Htz, the same tone that his blue box made to control the phone company! John immediately adopted the handle Capt'n Crunch to throw the feds off and set out to Kroger's to buy out their entire suppy of Froot Loops. Eventually, word spread about the blue boxes and many other boxes began to be built by "phone phreaks", each one serving a different form of phone fraud. One of the more well known phreaks was a man named Joe Engressia, a deaf man who lived in Tennessee. He was eventually able to cause the pay phones in his college to give out free calls to the other students by whistling country songs into the phones. He found that when he whistled anything by Wayne Newton he could get a free call but since he was deaf, he had to get a friend to talk on the phone to whoever he reached for him. Joe was finally busted in the early eighties and sentenced to death in the state of Florida. In 1983 the controversial movie, War Games came out and gave birth to a new generation of computer hackers and phone phreaks. Starring Tom Cruise as a teen-age hacker, this movie told the story of a kid who came close to starting Operation Dessert Storm when he used his computer to call up the library and erase his outstanding overdue book late fees. In 1986, Erik Bloodaxe and Gail Thatckery started a publication called Phrack, which was run out of Erik's garage on his Timex Sinclair 1000 computer. Phrack continued to be the nation's leading hacker magazine until an investigator for Pacific Bell ate beans for supper and bought a 14.4 Hayes Accura modem and Phrack was shut down until the controversial E*32 article was found to have actually been written by Steve Jackson who ran a super-underground bbs called P-80 Systems. Today the scene is still alive and kicking. Hacker Kevin Mitnick was located and arrested for writing anarchy files detailing how to crash airplanes into the White House and how to make Drain-o bombs and Wal-Mart continues to give full money-back refunds to people who give them modem casings full of crushed Pepsi cans. No one has heard from Bob for over twenty years now. .oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oO written by Eric Oehler http://dax.cs.wisc.edu/~wonko +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+ A tale of gothic horror! A tale of funky beats! Ned Kirby's FRANKENSTEIN The ship plowed onward into the night. Icy winds beat at the faces of the haggard crew. "The crew speaks of mutiny, sir!" exclaimed the first mate. "They think we'll never find a passage to Minneapolis, that this is a fool's mission." "No! We must continue!" I cried. "The best clubs in the Midwest lie there! We must continue!" At that moment a strange, shrill noise rang through the biting air. Cries of "demon!" and "monster" rang from the crew. I reassured them, that it was merely a Daniel Ash guitar solo. But the fears remained, for we knew not where such a sound was coming from. Then, a lone figure was seen on the horizon, limping dazedly accross the frozen ice fields. I could not believe my eyes! A man, here, in the wastelands of ice! We approached him and brought the exhausted person aboard. The man was short, wrapped in a tattered supa-phat(tm) black tshirt, baggy purple pants, a floppy-brimmed hat and a trenchcoat that was even larger than his shirt. His strange adornments meant one thing to me: I knew that this man was the famous Ned, DJ of great repute. "Why do we find you on the frozen wastes?" I asked excitedly. Perhaps this was clue in my quest for an oversea route to the Cities! "Who the fuck are you and why do you want to know?" This response did not offend me, I had expected nothing less from the famous Ned. "I am a sea captain, searching for a route to the Cities! I want mankind to remember my name forever!" I replied. "I'll tell you about fame, man. It sucks! I tried to make myself famous..well...more famous, anyway, and it my whole plan completely crashed. That's why I'm here. I must destroy my creation." He began to tell his dreadful tale... "I was a DJ, like my friends and some of their friends before them. But I wanted more. I wanted to be the DJ to end all DJs. Or better: I wanted to be the creator of the DJ to end all DJs. I had spent my childhood studying the arcane; Albertus Magnus, Dennis Ritchie, Pythagoras, Karl Bartos. My knowledge was unsurpassed in many areas. I wanted to use my knowledge to better mankind, or at least better the DJ industry. "I worked for weeks, driving myself to exhaustion, robbing graves, building components, sewing parts, dyeing hair, matching beats. I was building the perfect industrial/gothic DJ. Some of my more gothic groupies thought the body parts strewn around my apartment were hopelessly cool. God, they were all such posers. But despite their adoration I worked, and one night it all came together. "'It's alive! It's alive! And it's funky!' I cried. The beast had risen from its dais and immediately walked to my 1200s. Within seconds it was beatmatching. And I'm not talking 'Welcome to Paradise' mixing into anything...I mean Das Ich into FLA and other really weird matches. But a feeling of fear overtook me. This bastard would put me out of a job, and I'd be stuck working at Perkins in Madison again. Shit. I cast it out into the snow, hoping never to see it again, hoping it would just go and fucking rot someplace. It looked at me with pure hatred before it vanished, and spoke. 'I will be with you on gothic night.' "Ok, so that was a little freaky. But I really never figured I'd see it again. Sure it could spin, but it was the butt-ugliest thing I'd ever seen. It'd never get a job. I mean, hey, it was uglier than Ogre and as lumpy as every member of Pigface in a burlap bag. Fuck. It couldn't get a job if it needed one. " "So, Saturday night rolls around, and I'm spinning all my favorites. Throw some Foetus in for novelty, a little Fields of the Nephilim for robustness, the required Sisters songs to keep the goths from leaving. All of a sudden this bastard breaks into my booth, takes over my 1200s and starts spinning some fucking polka. People run screaming from the dance floor. Total chaos. I try to grapple and get my turntables back, but he's too damn big and manages, while fighting me, to mix into an Erasure song. Goths are going into convulsions. Complete utter nightmare. Bwah! I swear I'm going to lose my job for that. "The place is completely empty, and I ask him what the fuck he thinks he's doing. 'I have come for my vengeance. You have forsaken me. I am a DJ!' he says. "'I've played Download in a club, man!' I yell back. "'Oh shut up.' he retorted. He paused. 'My vengeance is complete. I'm outta here." "Ever since then I have hunted this beast, for no other reason that I think he took my limited Front242 'Animals' Promo 12"." He glanced at his watch. "Shit. I'm late for my shift at Perkins." He jumped ship and ran off into the night. I looked down at my crew. "Minneapolis is too weird. Let's go home." We turned our ship around, and sailed for home. .oO[ End Of Transmission ]Oo.