________________________________________ /// \\\ ||| `Y88P' `Y88P' ,oQ88Do, `Y88P"`"YP ||| =-==========|= 88 88 d8P' `Y8b `88' ' =|===========-= ||| .,$8ooooo8$ 88 88 .,88o8 ||| ||| 88 8b 88 88 88 ||| =-==========|= 88 88 Y8b. .d8P .88 . =|========ks=-= <%$#@ ||| ,d88b, ,d88b, `"Y88P"` ,d88b,.,db ||| @#$%> <%$#@ @#$%> <%$#@ -90- @#$%> <%$#@ @#$%> <%$#@ "The Final Jammy" @#$%> <%$#@ @#$%> <=====================================================================> telnet> co hoe.org Trying...666.174.2.1 Connected to HOE.ORG.. Escape character is '^]'. Welcome to the Place Where Piggies Frolic "Oink! Oink!" elite login: mogel sekrut werd: fuck_me_sideways w00t!@# yEr k0dEz wERkED!@ y0U'Ve eNtERR'd dE eLYTe pLACE!@ .ad$a. `D$$$a $$$$ .a$$$$$$a. .ad$$a. .a$$$$$$a. $a.&$$$a. .a$$$$$$a. `$$$$ $$$$ $$$' i$$$$ $$$$P' $$$' i$$$$ $$$' $$ $$$' `$$$ $$$$$$$$$$$ $$$ d$'$$$ $$$ $$$ d$'$$$ $$$ ,$$ $$$ $$$$$$$$$$$ $$$e$' $$$ $$$$ $$$e$' $$$ $$$$$$$$' $$$ $$$$$ $$$$ $$$$ $$$$' ,$$$ $$$' .@@@, $$$$' ,$$$ $$$' $$$ $$$. ,$$$ $$$$ $$$$ `D$$$$$$P' $$$$$$a. @$$$@ `D$$$$$$P' $$$ $$$ `D$$$$$$P' $$$' `@@@' $$' $$' $' $' Last interactive login on Wednesday, 22-JULY-1995 10:05 You Have 2 New Mail Messages. Yes, You still have your appendix. % mail Welcome to the FUNK E-Mail reader V4.9-2 email> read 1 ______________________________________________________________________________ From sheik@ndts7.pt06.ndsu.NoDak.edu Date: 19 July 95 01:46 PDT Subject: Invitation to #warez2 I would like to formally invite you to the #warez2 channel located on IRC! Our staff is dedicated to provide safety and fun for your pleasure. I am Sheik, the security chief for all of the channels that include: #warez2, #warez3, #warez4, #warez5, #warez6, #warez7 Our channels are dedicated to allow free transfer of any and all copyrighted software. In the new electronic age, the authorities really don't give a shit about our activities. We transfer games, applications, and utilities for DOS, Windows, OS/2, and WinNT/95. Our goal is to allow everyone to trade files freely. My job is to make sure the channels stay safe and secure while everyone exchanges their latest versions of Microsoft Office, Sim Town, Comanche CD-ROM, Warriors CD-ROM, and Quantum Castle. There are, of course, many other applications and games that everyone is exchanging online IRC. Is this illegal? Yes. Does anyone care? No. So come on and drop by our channels and exchange some software! We might even give you a few Warez FTP sites just for being there. #warez2 is open most of the time. If you can't get in there, just ask myself (Sheik), or any of my channel assistances: asylum, Lyrch, lsi, Vortex-, devan, SprinT, claim, PeLe_, LeStaT_ WAngel, Xtream, ZED, fuct, fet, Stumble, ByT0R, v0ntrips, TCB Cassidy, [Rain, BlAcKLiTE, PeNNyWisE, Phantasy, PRiME, Mal_2 Our channel bots are: GdAnGuS, GdAnGi, SiteServ, and many others. The more public channels: #warez5 -> #warez9 are always open. I hope to see you down in our channel. We can always use the help of exchanging files... plus it's fun and you'll meet new friends! See you there! Also, I am using SLIP right now, so you will not be able to respond back via e-mail. Please meet me online IRC, or see me in the channel. -- The Sheik Security Chief for #warez2 Co-Assistant is "asylum" at dpotter@theodolite.ae.calpoly.edu "Trade warez all day long; it's what the Internet is for!" ______________________________________________________________________________ email> read 2 ______________________________________________________________________________ From everlast@aol.com Date: 29 July 95 04:46 PDT Subject: hey mogel!@# Hey Mogel! This is quite a blast from the past and all, but after all this time, I've finally got net access! boy, that bbs world stuff is so limited! now I can find more bomb files and learn much more! So how's HoE? I've heard you guys got a lot bigger, and even without me! I can't wait to see the kewl stuff that has come out of HoE since I wrote my ping pong bomb file back in #7. I was thinking of doing an supplement file to that. What do you think? Please reply, Everlast ______________________________________________________________________________ email> del 1 email> del 2 email> exit % nn Now Entering l0ZeNET. Better than UseNet. NEWSRDR V7.2-6 Copyright © 1995 HoE Inc. All Rights Reserved. %NEWS-I-CONNECTING, connecting to NNTP server funky-rad.net %NEWS-I-NEWGROUP, found new group alt.gr33nday.ph0rever %NEWS-I-NEWGROUP, found new group alt.nerdy.doctor.diagnostics.prenatal %NEWS-I-NEWGROUP, found new group alt.bah.sucks %NEWS-I-NEWGROUP, found new group alt.insert.random.group.here %NEWS-I-NEWGROUP, found new group alt.hoe.die.die.die %NEWS-I-NEWGROUP, found new group bionet.chicken-sex %NEWS-I-UPDATING, locating unread articles; please wait... 3 new articles in newsgroup alt.hoe 5 new articles in newsgroup alt.angst.for.donuts 645648 new articles in newsgroup alt.2600 6 new articles in newsgroup alt.fan.warez 3 new articles in newsgroup misc.writing 2 new articles in newsgroup alt.religion.rudabega News> group alt.hoe %NEWS-I-GRPSET, current newsgroup now alt.hoe -NEWS-I-GRPINFO, articles [398,400], 3 unseen News> read ______________________________________________________________________________ alt.hoe article 398 of [398,400] (2 unseen) From: mogel@hoe.org (Mogel) Subject: The Fate of HoE. Organization: HoE Publications Lines: 153 Okay, l0zERz. The news is official. HoE is DEAD. Deal with it. Yeah, it's ninety issues and and one year later. Looking back over the last year it amazes me how much has changed around me since i started up this stupid damn e'zine back in time. It hasn't just been the world - it's been the changes in this 'zine, the computer people that i talk to, and of course my _real_ life that have been so inconceivably drastic since the mark of HoE's inception that it's almost too much to think about and reflect on. So I won't. The purpose of this post here is to inform you of a few things. It's basically going to talk about the history of HoE and some of the behind-the-scenes quirky things that have gone on, that should be put in here before they are forgotten. We're also going to talk about what HoE is completely about in the past and present. Finally, I'm going to give you all the meaty gossip on why i'm killing HoE once and for all and what's in store for me and the HoE-Team in moving onto a brighter day for the e'zine world. Of course, before any of this, there's people that have made my year in the e'zine publishing "business" a lot more enjoyable. So, now here's a very condensed list of some of the people that have made me extra happy relating to HoE in the last year. Yes, I do gr33t people that have nothing to do with HoE that i just lublub. If I forgot anyone that should have been included, please harass me when you see me, or take credit for it with the gr33t to "godd(+d)," so thanks for the existence and persistence of h0e (for better or worse) go to: abigwar, acid warlock, alex swain, ascii express, basehead, beaner, beck hansen, black francis, black sunshine, boogeyman, captain hook, chal e. mac, change, charlie, chickenlord, corrosion, crank, cstone, curious george, cyberelf, dark phiber, dash, dead cheese, death veggie, defiant, demonika, disorder, dr. hate, drunkfux, edicius, eerie, epicac, erikb, franken gibe, gausep00, godd(+d), guido sanchez, grayarea, greg aubel, half-baked, im2k4u2c, inner logic, invalid media, invisible man, i wish i were nathan, james hetfield, jason farnon, juliet, kamui, kaos, killer wombat, kidknee, killgore trout, k0rrupt, k-spiff, lady carolyn, lobo, logik, lucifuge, lucky, mad arab, mistawho, m0rpheus, mr. brownstone, mr. sandman, murmur, neko, nitro187, nykia, nymph, obscure images, pandemonium, panther modern, paradox, pale, phaedrus, pip the angry youth, psycho santa, psychotic pyrotic, puck, rattle, ring master, rush 2, sage, sinister sheep, spiff, scooter, scared poet, sed, shadow tao, slave, slater, socrates, spooky, subzero, sunspot, swallow, syrinx, thalassocracy, thanatos, the anarch, the chief, the gnn, the guest, the professor, the raver, the stranger, u4ea, valgamon, velocity girl, violent femmes, visioknight, voodoo child, vyrus, whisper, whoops, winona ryder, wiz of id, x, xgirl, y-wind0ze, zippy, zorro. At any rate, you can't do anything but smirk in that i'm-so-cool way when you look back upon the history and moronics of HoE. And, yes, believe me, I do. When I was sitting on my BBS as a lowly t-file l0vin' sysop the idea sprung to me of something rad I could do to basically kill a lot of time (I was a lot less busy then). I decided for "the hell of it" to create a "RAD!@#" t-file group. "I L0V CDC AND BLAH@!# I CAN BE JUST LIKE THEM!@#" I thought. Note: at the time I only had up to cDc 100 and BLaH 20. Shrug. At any rate, so HoE began. If you look back to everything from the attitude to the headers, it's all a total BAD cDc rip. Ugh. It literally pains me to read that old stuff. And of course, those anarchy texts weren't really what I "wanted" for h0e way-back-when, but I dunno.. I wanted something "ayche pee" at the time to be in the mag, and I knew that *SO* many cheesy t-files had been written repeating the same information over and over again, and many times it was even wrong info. Stupid, Stupid. So I took what I got, as lame as it was. Yeah, sadly I can't turn back time, so there they are, HoE #3 and #7, b0mbs and all. Heh. Already up to issue 11 in the releasing thing. I played the "h0e r00lz!@" routine totally, but even then i knew it sucked. Why did I continue? I have no idea. But then I ran into Abigwar and he posed an interest in HoE and began writing. He was basically what kept h0e alive then, and he wrote many of those files in the 20s and 30s. Many still give me a chuckle, like the "Proof on the Questions!" file. For a time then I really began to dig HoE and actually take a little pride in the 'zine. We had a buncha people that "showed interest" and we were releasing wacky t-file after wacky t-file. It was around this time that I starting calling places like DRU and /, well, not like that's hard to do). Whateverthecase, one of the writers that I really respected, Corrosion, yelled at me and was >THIS< close to quitting h0e. So I actually thought about it and he was right. When people look back and read h0e it's all gonna be a big buncha crap. No one's gonna give a fuck. So, at #45 we started the new release-them-in-packs format which seems to have worked very nicely. I put on a real quality control. I didn't release anything I didn't honestly like anymore, and so, after that point HoE began producing some neat files. I am actually proud of a few HoE files, which is really something for me. As my life changed, I moved to college, and Black Francis basically saved HoE. He put up his board and continued supporting HoE as the WHQ and e'zines in general by producing his rEd/pEz (which I wrote for). pEz is some amazing stuff. Anyhoo, I owe so much to frannie I can't even begin to tell you. When I'm a famous movie director, he will be getting monthly installments of money. HoE #61-89 were pretty damn neat. Since HoE's inception the ideas that have been building up in my head finally came out in one incredibly gratifying writing spew which ultimately became my "mE t0o!@" file. The last HoE release is on _such_ a different plane than when HoE started it blows my mind. "So why the hell are you giving HoE up, Moggie?!@" Well, to be honest, in my attempt to be different from cDc, I failed. Anyway, HoE basically became "just like cDc except anyone could submit good stuff to it and actually get it out in the same year." HoE wasn't exclusive. "Isn't that enough difference??" Spiff asked me. No Spiff, evidently it's not, since even after the last release, HoE _still_ wasn't pulling in a number of writers that I wanted. I guess I expected writers too poof out of no where magically. I think I had this phantasy that there was all this untapped talent out there waiting to come out in cyber-g33x. Yes, I was wrong. It takes a very special personality to be a continually productive t-file guy. So, as sad as it is, it's all for the best that HoE dies. We just weren't getting the attention. But, that's okay though. Why? Because I've only just begun to fight. Seriously. HoE and pEz were just the first stepping stones for us in the e'zine world. It was a "practice" if you will. All of our problems are being solved from this point forward, as very soon you'll be seeing a brand new e'zine, with it's own original format. pEz/HoE attitude intact, with a lot of style. The best part is the line up. We've got all kinds of intelligent, productive guys, that are ready to write for the new e'zine. Black Francis - Mogel - James Hetfield - Eerie - Murmur - Shadow Tao Neko - Sed - Thalassocracy - IM2K - Dead Cheese - Silver Jew ...and many more. We're not only going to change things a lot, but it's my goal to make cDc eat their words. They _will_ phear Mogel. So, I bid you goodbye, and I'd like to say thanks to everyone that supported us and stuff. You ain't seen nothin' yet. *sMEWCh!@*, Funk-Mastah Mogel ______________________________________________________________________________ News> next ______________________________________________________________________________ alt.hoe article 399 of [399,400] (1 unseen) From: jamesy@hoe.org (James Hetfield) Subject: my sekrut phantasee! Organization: l0ck wannabes Lines: 37 Mohaha! Hey m0gel!@ you can't kiLl h0E!@# If only i was the the new autocrat of h0e! So, to start out as the NEW leader of h0e, I'll begin by changing the name of the mag. h0e now stands for: HEFTY OLD ELEPHANTS!!!!!!!!!!1 And, to make things even better, I got RAD MAN of ACiD to draw the NEW hoe MASCOT!!!! _ | | | | \ /--|__/ / \ /----------| |- | | __/ \| |-------| | | | | | look at his long tail! HE HE HE Now that you know the new title of hoe and the new mascot, whose name will forever be known as MOE the HOE elephant, it's time to get to the more important business! h0e from now on will only be accepting text files regarding the following items: - ararcy!!!! (Microwave bombs, killing old women, and so on!!!) - hacking!!! any files about hacking!!! PREFERABLY ALL IN CAPS!!! - ANY, i repeat, ANY SONG LYRICS!!!! HOPEFULLY METALLICA!!#@!@!@##!@ - recepes for cookies!!! I love cookies!!! - any XXX porn files!#@@!#@#!!@#!@# especially lesiban i love that - lamesy jamesy ______________________________________________________________________________ News> next ______________________________________________________________________________ alt.hoe article 400 of [400,400] (0 unseen) From: mogel@hoe.org (Mogel) Subject: Oh! Those Interviews! Organization: HoE Publications Lines: 380 Oh. I just realized that since I'm done with HoE, and I have these extra interview t-files floating around from back in HoE #70, I should post them here for you all to see. I nabbed a bunch of people I couldn't interview in the past, including these elites: alex swain, grayarea, y-w1nd0ze, erikb, and u4ea. Go me. =---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=----=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---= | Alex Swain, of the 'zine Whatever Ramblings | =---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=----=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---= 1] How the poop did you ever originally get such a spiffy god-damned handle? Well I don't really use handles/aliases anymore but I've been around a long time and have had several handles in that time. I think my first handle was Major Havoc which I got from the vector-graphic Atari game. I used that for probably two or three years sometime around 1983-1985 or so. Then in 1986 I changed my alias to Ares (after the Greek god of war) and used that pretty consistently on boards and on the Net/Telnet (such as Altos Germany) until about 1988. In 1988 I was busted for various things and dropped out of computers altogether. Then about a year ago I got back onto the Net and started using the alias t3 which I got because I was writing an article on backbones at the time. I've never really given a shit about aliases but try not to change them because it just gets confusing. 2] How old were you and what was it that got you into this whole shin-dig? I'm not sure if you mean zines or computers...I got my first modem when I was eleven (i'm 22 now) and spent most of my younger years on bbs's racking up major phone bills because I thought everything within my own area code was local. I've been consistently using computers for a long time and have done just a little bit of everything including programming and various questionable activities. I got into zines in 1987 when I did a really weak small skate zine called Habit which I must have made 30 copies of and gave away to all the skaters I could find. From there it just progressed and I started Whatever Ramblings in the summer of 1989 which I'm still doing more or less. About a year ago I got into E-Zines and E-Print zines (I called E-Print zines publications that are in print as well as electronic) and basically just ftp all the files to my archive site in Michigan. 3] Why do you continue doing such socially IMPORTANT work? Well I question how IMPORTANT my work is. I like writing alot and about anything. I'm still trying to get a grasp of exactly how to write so I end up experimenting alot with styles and ideas. 4] Do you have a life? If so, what are some real world interests of yours? Well in my definition I don't really have a life. Unfortunately my definition is derived from society which has such ideals as a 40-hour work week and a daily schedule, two things I do not have. If you mean do I have a life in a "do you do anything but sit in front of a computer?" sense then yes. I went to music school and play guitar about four hours a day as well as read alot and play with my orange tabby named Sunkist. Every once in a while I go to a punk show or go drinking with my pals. I also do alot of travelling which is pretty obvious in my writings. 5] What person in the world is the /<-RaDDeZT eleet guy dat makes you happy? Well |<-rad sort of conjures up a bad memory for me, mostly warez-kiddies from AE boards in the mid 80's. But I see what you're gettin' at. I'd say my friend Ace Backwards is pretty "eleet" in my definition. He's an underground comic artist that has been consistently putting out good strips for over ten years now. He's very productive and generally succeeds me in producing material which is surprising because sometimes I put out a zine twice a month. And yes, he makes me happy too.. 6] Who is the most ANNOYING person you have ever known? oh, and WHY... Hmm the most annoying person. Well I can probably name ten but the one that comes to mind is this girl Erin that me and my friend Fu met crossing country a couple of years ago. Its a really long story but essentially she was this rich girl from Texas that we met in New Orleans and we were really broke and she was filthy rich and she promised us all this money and riches if we came to visit her in Arlington so we drove up there and she flaked on us in a big way and one thing led to another and we ended up in jail. The whole situation was annoying but I guess I'd say that she was the biggest cuntrag i've ever had to deal with. 7] What direction do you see your zine heading in? (this one begs for jokes) Well i'm not really sure. My main zine Whatever Ramblings is on hold right now because I became disillusioned with the whole zine world and had to do something new. I suppose I'd say that WR is probably already where it'll be forever. The last few issues have been distributed worldwide and it has a small but devout readership which never really gets bigger or smaller unless some big magazine like Sassy or some other shit tells a million 17 year olds that zines are cool, in which situation I usually sell about a hundred more each issue. My new E-Print zine Red Dye Number Five which is mainly compilations of stories is just beginning but I think it may do well assuming that I can get the same distro as WR has. 8] Toilet Paper - Folded or Crumpled? I think thats a pretty unconscious decision like maybe determined by genes or something. I'm not methodical or patient enough to fold toilet paper to merely wipe my ass which implies that I just crumple it up. 9] If you were to die tomorrow and wanted to leave one quote that everyone would remember you by, what would that be? Well if I died tomorrow..hmm..Probably something like, "Okay, I'm dead now so buy my zine already." 10] What would be the first thing that came to your mind when I say "zine"? I think years ago i'd say "obscurity," now I guess now i'd say "trendy". =---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=----=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---= | Grayarea, of the 'zine Grayareas | =---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=----=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---= 1] How the poop did you ever originally get such a spiffy god-damned handle? i got my handle from the name of the magazine, gray areas. it was an attempt to be honest and stuff about who i am. bad move. if i had it to do over again, i'd have lied to everyone. they mostly all lied to me :) 2] How old were you and what was it that got you into this whole shin-dig? i got into the scene in the early 1970s when i was in high school. i used a calling card number found in a yippie zine and got caught by the operator. my cousin agreed to pay for the call and that ended my career as a phreak. i got into the scene again when i bought an IBM clone in 1991. i got REALLY into the scene after i started Gray Areas. 3] Why do you continue doing such socially IMPORTANT work? why do i stay? some of the people i have met make it worth it. but it's a question i have to ask myself again and again as what passes for hacking is often stalking, sexual harassment and slander/libel. 4] Do you have a life? If so, what are some real world interests of yours? my real world interests include video games, movies, cats, sushi, travel to meet the hackers who appeal to me, reading, concerts and late night conversations. 5] What person in the world is the /<-RaDDeZT eleet guy dat makes you happy? what person makes me the happiest? no one person can fill all of my needs. but the hacker you are asking about knows who he is and doesn't need me to tell u. :) 6] Who is the most ANNOYING person you have ever known? oh, and WHY... i am quite sure i have not met the world's most annoying person yet. i know they will wake me up sometime soon though :) 7] What direction do you see your zine heading in? (this one begs for jokes) Gray Areas will probably keep adding more and more pages as more and more people come forward to express their two cents. We print all points of view and new things become legal/illegal all the time so we'll never lack for material. I hope to get around to putting up a web page later this year. 8] Toilet Paper - Folded or Crumpled? toilet paper can be either folded or crumpled as long as it's Northern brand. 9] If you were to die tomorrow and wanted to leave one quote that everyone would remember you by, what would that be? i'd ideally like to be cremated and have my ashes scattered in a specific spot in San Francisco, but failing that since only one person knows where that spot is, i'd like my tombstone to say "Don't judge me too harshly." In case you're wondering, that's what Brian Jones' (of the Rolling Stones) says on it... I also hope i die rich enough to leave $2500 for my friends to have a party with like Janis Joplin did. The courts were never able to resolve who her friends were and the party never happened :) 10] What would be the first thing that came to your mind when I say "zine"? The first thing that comes to my mind when i hear the word zine is some fool mispronouncing it "z-eye-ne." it's zine as in rhymes with scene. Zines are publications which print under 100,000 copies. They are almost always operated at a financial loss and they usually are published late. Most fail. A few grow and give the rest hope they may someday crawl out of the lobster pot. =---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=----=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---= | U4EA, of the 'zine BoW | =---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=----=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---= 1) How the poop did you ever originally get such a spiffy god-damned handle? My original handle was Abysmal Euphoria which was then shortened to U4EA once i found the wonderful little world of irc. Abysmal Euphoria was also the name of the band i was in at the time, i didnt realize there was a mod writer from the UK with a similar handle at the time. ie: U4ia. I get alot of confused people asking me if i write mods and stuff. Oh well, I've had alot of handles over the years but the one that has really stuck is U4EA. 2) How old were you and what was it that got you into this whole shin-dig? I was 14 when i got my 1st computer, a commodore vic 20.. 3) Why do you continue doing such socially IMPORTANT work? Im an environmentally conscious guy, what can i say??! 4) Do you have a life? If so, what are some real world interests of yours? I have a pretty active life i would say, i do alot of skiing in the winter, I also enjoy music alot, i've played in several bands over the years and actively write both music and poetry all the time. My main interest right now is hanging out with my gf and just enjoying life... 5) What person in the world is the /<-RaDDeZT eleet guy dat makes you happy? SN is my lord and master. 6) Who is the most ANNOYING person you have ever known? oh, and WHY... Snoop Doggy Dog and those that listen to that style of music... 7) What direction do you see your zine heading in? (this one begs for jokes) my zine no longer exists, dont know if i'll write another issue of BoW, can't see it happening for awhile, i have too many other projects on the go. 8) Toilet Paper - Folded or Crumpled? as long as its soft and doesnt rip the hell out of my anus i dont care. 9) If you were to die tomorrow and wanted to leave one quote that everyone would remember you by, what would that be? /signoff you all suck 10) What would be the first thing that came to your mind when I say "zine"? v0mit. =---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=----=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---= | Y-WINDoZE, of the 'zine PuD | =---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=----=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---= aRGH@#!@#!@!1 As much as I love y, i tried forever to get him to fill out this survey file. _finally_ i got him to agree to answer the questions on IRC and i'd log it all. well, guess what? MY l0G FILE G0T K0RRUPTED!@#!@1 aRGh@#@!!1 So, I got this little tiny sliver of the interview that i recovered. I would make an attempt to relay the answers that i remembered, but i'd feel pretty lame not taking exact words, so sorry. HMPH. do you have a life? if so what are your real-world interests? uhm at the present time, I do nothing, I hang around with friends and talk about women. i like bball a lot. Toilet Paper - Folded or Crumpled? FOLDED@#$ FOLDED@#$ FOLDED@#$ If you were to die tomorrow and wanted to leave one quote that everyone would remember you by, what would that be? "Some days Im like God, and others, I'm just better." how about with hax0ring? I didnt do it. how did you start up pud? uhm me and NoCourier were at a friends house drunk off ou rasses on pga one night when we wrote the first ever *unreleased* issue where is no courier now? last I heard going to cali with his bands, prolly in jail who is exactly "da pud crew"? uhm lets see. there is I, bpahomet, hymie, no courier, dsaint and squinky are the main du0udz What would be the first thing that came to your mind when I say "zine"? Stupid art fags with too much free time =---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=----=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---= | Erikb, of the 'zine Phrack | =---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=----=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---=---= 1) How the poop did you ever originally get such a spiffy god-damned handle? I was reading a book on vikings a long time ago and liked the whole Erik Bloodaxe story. Besides, everyone needs a handle, and my first name is Erik. 2) How old were you and what was it that got you into this whole shin-dig? I was very young. I was even younger when I got into the whole undergound thing. I was 11 when I broke into my first computer. What got me into all this? Too much spare time. 3) Why do you continue doing such socially IMPORTANT work? Ego. 4) Do you have a life? If so, what are some real world interests of yours? I have no life. My existence revolves around the computer world. However, the few distractions that rip me from the clutches of my evil terminal addiction are: sex drugs 70's music all kinds of weird frequencies (dc to daylight, by god if its passing through my body, its mine to demodulate) travel money 5) What person in the world is the /<-RaDDeZT eleet guy dat makes you happy? Chris Goggans 6) Who is the most ANNOYING person you have ever known? oh, and WHY... Everybody annoys me...so I can't really narrow it down to one single person who would qualify as "the most annoying." People who drive like shit annoy me. People who bug me for things annoy me. People who ask when the next issue of Phrack is coming out annoy me. People who dig around in my room annoy me. People who play music too loud during the middle of the day annoy me. People like you annoy me. 7) What direction do you see your zine heading in? (this one begs for jokes) I see Phrack heading on a crash course straight into the sun. or I see Phrack becoming a slick glossy full-color magazine backed by money from Mitch Kapor. We'll focus on hot topics of interest to the "in-crowd" and treat them with a high level of journalistic integrity. We'll take Kai's Power Tools and stretch it to a whole new level of utilization. We'll take the whole style and format of International Design magazine and claim it as out own. We'll be the #1 benchmark for "HIP" in the 90's. We will rule above all others. 8) Toilet Paper - Folded or Crumpled? Folded & Crumpled ... it depends upon the consistency of the stool. 9) If you were to die tomorrow and wanted to leave one quote that everyone would remember you by, what would that be? Yeah, I fucked her. 10) What would be the first thing that came to your mind when I say "zine"? Mine is cooler. -eof ______________________________________________________________________________ News> group alt.angst.for.donuts %NEWS-I-GRPSET, current newsgroup now alt.angst.for.donuts -NEWS-I-GRPINFO, articles [567,570], 4 unseen News> read ______________________________________________________________________________ alt.angst.for.donuts article 567 of [567,570] (3 unseen) From: corrosion@hoe.org (Corrosion) Subject: don't read this Organization: NKOTB Preservation Society Lines: 26 This will not apply to you. This is not a personal attack. This is just my view. An open letter to the majority of America's youth: My opinion means nothing. Yours means even less. In your striving to be so different, so original, you have created a mockery, and sadly a trend. Your Cobain haircuts stand together in a sea of conformity. Not conformity to the quo, but conformity to each other. The ideals that started the genre are lost in your shallow voices. Your new shirts of the bands that play your music cling to your flannel. But you've had the shirt you're wearing for a while now, and I'm wrong. The music that spits out band after band of packaged rebellion, that plants a 3 minute hummable hook so deep into your cheek that you believe it to be your own. Your petty aggression puked out in a 4 chord progression repeated into infinity. Being fed the same baby food by the corporate industry that keeps you shut out from the world around you. But you've had a bad day and your girlfriend is bitching at you for not getting Nine Inch Nails tickets. The music industry is a conglomerate whore, and you my friend are it's best customer. This trend feeds on the struggle to be different and unique by offering you the same bubble gum rewrapped in ugly paper, what it thinks you can identify with. The vehicle is the same though, the lifestyle is pounded into your head over and over, the radio, MTV, and magazines all spoon feeding you what you WILL like. Change the channel, switch the station, turn the TV off. -Corrosion ______________________________________________________________________________ News> next ______________________________________________________________________________ alt.angst.for.donuts article 568 of [568,570] (2 unseen) From: cstone@free.org (Stone) Subject: you people are morons@!#! Organization: BAH (Yes, we _know_ that we suck!) Lines: 39 the disease of many is ignorance and stupidity. people today are having unprotected sex for some lame reason like "it doesn't feel good" or "i don't want my penis to look discolored". those aren't reasons. a reason is something like "i want to get herpes and then go on a crusade to start a pandemic". i would acknowledge that as a good reason. you see, people bitch about how computer privacy is being invaded. well, quit fucking BITCHING about it and find another way to keep your kidporn pictures private. there's many ways. people are stupid enough to follow other stupid people with the same stupidity disease, and those people just follow other stupid people, so, when you get down to it, you have a bunch of herpes-infected stupid people sitting in a circle fucking each other with no condoms. and the circle repeats itself. and the kids born from stupid people fucking each other with herpes and no condoms are even stupider than their parents. so, we get stupid kids thinking its cool to have red, blistering sores on their father's penis, so we get kids that think it's uncool to cover it up with a condom. and the stupidity disease perpetuates itself again, until everyone in america has herpes except those people who aren't infected by the stupidity disease dies out, and the world is named after Kennedy of MTV. many people infected with the stupidity disease listen to rap. they like it because it repeatedly deals with rape and having unprotected sex. they like this. they also like it because they can't understand the lyrics, and that means none of their stupid friends could either, so they can't look stupid next to them. that's cool also. people infected with the disease drink and do drugs so it'll make them even stupider. they do it because their stupid friends do it, and because there's no guilt in having unprotected sex when you're stoned off your ass. lots of people infected with the stupidity disease join gangs, because they can get money, guns, sex, drugs, and liquor for free!!@!@#@#$%#$ this is like a god for them. ______________________________________________________________________________ News> next ______________________________________________________________________________ alt.angst.for.donuts article 569 of [569,570] (1 unseen) From: sedative@escape.com (Sed) Subject: Angry Peace Organization: The Angst Empire Lines: 118 Everywhere I look, I see bullshit. In this whole world, everyone is bending over backwards to impress each other. Everyone is trying to be something they're not, so they can become something they're not. Recently I had the unfortunate experience of doing short term work at an office. The whole office setting has probably turned me off from ever doing white collar work forever. This is supposed to be the creme de la creme, where you go once you graduate from your ivy league university and are groomed by a big faceless multi-national corporation, but it was pure misery. You had people who were at each other's necks, were severely overworked and constantly appeared "busy" for the boss, who appeared more interested in after-hours activities with the secretary then filing out the forms. And this is what every kid is set to be by his mom - in a nice office with a comfy view of the city from the 60th floor. But all of it was the same bullshit you'll find working in a burger king, a library, or wherever. People just fed up with each other and near-despair, yet hanging onto the jobs because for better or worse the jobs are all they have to define them. They spent their high school years studying when they could've been partying, joining clubs they had contempt for so they could get into a good college so mom and dad won't call them a failure. Then once in university, they deny themselves any pleasure and make themselves slaves to work and studying so they can get a good resume. Finally, they end up with a decent position in a corporation - but then what? You aren't happy, home life is a wreck, your day is split between a computer, your car commuting home, and a bed where you sleep and that's it. What a crock. I, for one, would rather be a unemployed freelance writer speaking my thoughts, surviving on brand-x doritos in a studio apartment, yet happy with myself, then be making 80,000 plus dollars a year in a corporation where I'm nothing more then a human database. Bah. _I'll_ define my job, not let my job define me. Heh. Figures I'd have hate for everything, huh? Well, it's with good reason. For every day since I was born, my whole life has alternated between rage, despair and alienation. Sometimes I just tried to hold everything in so I wouldn't become a freak and then it all just backfired. I took such shit at day camp. I was afraid to fight back. Then one day, all the rage inside of me just exploded - I just had this urge to do something that had an effect - to break out of this little prison. I was literally exploding. I went over to this kid who I never met before in my life and pushed him into a four foot pool. And he was maybe 4'3" and had a hard time swimming. This was when I was seven. I got expelled from camp for that. At camp I was beat up every fucking day cause I didn't fit in. I was too tall, too fat, too nerdy, too much of a speech impediment, I was just this stupid misfit kid who earned the wrath of a entire camp. So finally I exploded and it collapsed on me. Another time was when I was twelve years old. I was in school, again I was taking lots of shit from people. So when I couldn't stand it anymore, I exploded. I was in the principals office with another kid I was arguing with, and suddenly (it was just like a urge, or inspiration, I'm still not sure what) I just shoved him to the floor. Then I punched him in the face. I couldn't believe what happened. Twelve years of shit, feces and anger exploded in 30 seconds of bottled violence. I got expelled from school. At home, situation was no better. My parents were just soulless piles of fat who sheltered me. They were grooming me to grow up to be a good little doctor, lawyer, or whatever a nice middle-class jewish suburban kid should grow up to be. They sheltered me as a kid, gave me a circle of friends who were all lobotomized zombies, who resigned to their fate of future-yuppiedom who I could not stand. They never let me out of the house unless I was with an adult, not even to walk outside. I started a conversation when I was like four with some kid across the street, I was dragged away being told "not to talk to strangers." This went on until school started. Then in kindergarten I was all fucked up. My parents deprived me of fucking social skills and left me for the kill. And then what? THEY DIDN'T GIVE A FUCKING SHIT! They told me it was because the other kids were jealous of me. Ha, right. They were too afraid to admit they bred a frankenstein. When she spread her legs, she spawned a pile of shit. Shit that every time it showed a glimmer of potential was crushed under the boots of everyone else. Probably the only saving grace, that without I definitely would have become a druggie, suicide victim, or run away from home was music, specifically the punk rock scene. When your 13, just beginning to question the answers, you look like a jock yet your a freak inside. Then, I discovered real music. Not crap like _Nirvana_ or _Guns and Roses_, who fed on exploiting kids feelings and diverting their rebellion into arena rock tours and double albums. People who actually were in the same situation as you, angry as fuck, and fed up with the situation. It gave me something to live for. And now, today, punk has gone commercial. Everyone is buying into it. punk is becoming the 90's equivalent of hair metal. A music stripped of its potential, just a vehicle for adolescent death and destruction fantasies. Fuck, it ain't worth it. I break myself. I like to destroy my body. That mess of skin, bones and nerves is nothing more then fodder for bullshit. I look like a fucking jock. As soon as puberty hit, I went from a fat, lisping, tall nerd to a beer- bellied, mumbling, "too-goddamn-tall" freak. I needed to break things, to destroy myself and others. For the first time in my goddamn life, I had power over stuff. And I abused it. I beat up everyone I didn't like. I shoved every drug I could find down every orifice in my body. I pierced things with the urge just to differentiate myself from every other loser. I ended up like a goddamn jigsaw puzzle. I was cut up. Fuck that. On the news right now is a report on graffiti. Mayor guliani is participating in the cleaning up of graffiti. he is calling it vandalism. Bullshit. One more example of the buergoise exercising their iron fist over the poor. A can of spray paint is all some people have to mourn a dead friend, or to express their feelings. Like it or not, not everyone can afford a mausoleum, or have the skills to write a poem. To some people, this is the art of the cities. It's the spirit of the city reclaiming the cold bullshit, the graffiti causing a kind of organic web unifying the city. Graffiti gives the streets a image. Something more then a collection of buildings, it is impossible to put into words. To stop graffiti, they are distributing "Captain Graffiti" coloring books. What a damn-great idea! Give the kids coloring books and suddenly the big bad "nigger 'n spic" art will go bye bye Mr. Urban Planner! Now all we need is Captain Gang Warfare, Captain Poverty, Captain Drug Abuse, Captain No Hope For a Job, Captain Racism and we'll have a perfect world for sure. Uhh, I don't think so. Speaking of solving non-problems through half-assed ideas, I can't believe how close minded a good amount of people are. I have gotten way too many insults hurled my way because I dyed my hair green last week. I've been shouted at "PUKE-HAIR!" by people across the street, the "G" in my summer school biology class spent his time laughing his ass off at it, I got a beer bottle thrown at me because of it. Bullshit. You don't fit in, society puts pressure on you to fit in. Goddamn wrong. Let me be. __ __ _ | | | \ every generation had there chance, now its our turn -SFA |__ |__ | | let theory of the anger be the power -The Clash | | | | Freedom of speech is a FREEDOM, not a priveledge. Please tell __| |__ |_/ Jesse Helms & James Exon that before we're all gagged. flat earth society BBS - 718.698.7865 All the texts around & then some ______________________________________________________________________________ News> next ______________________________________________________________________________ alt.angst.for.donuts article 570 of [570,570] (0 unseen) From: chris@iquest.com (Y-WINDoZE) Subject: Re: Angry Peace Organization: Pizza Underground Digest Lines: 63 Sed> insults hurled my way because I dyed my hair green last week. I've been Sed> shouted at "PUKE-HAIR!" by people across the street, the "G" in my Sed> summer school biology class spent his time laughing his ass off at it, I Sed> got a beer bottle thrown at me because of it. Bullshit. You don't fit Sed> in, society puts pressure on you to fit in. Goddamn wrong. Let me be. "y0!@# Fuck you. Fuck everything you stand for. Fuck your mom, your cat, and your god. I hate you. You're trash. You're pathetic. I hate you. I hate you!@ I HatE y0U!@#" Quite boring, eh? I would tend to agree. The sad part is the above represents the supposed views and opinions being expressed by most "e'zine" writers these days. The simple fact is angst will always be in and as long as you sit there and worship the talentless hacks who write it you will be subjected to it. Time and time again you will be forced to read how pathetic you are, how angry the writer is, how at error the whole damn world is. Is that what you really want? Text has always been a place where angry views were expressed. The problem with it in current times is that the views being expressed are quite simply shallow and misguided. These views tend to be expressed by 16 year old middle class high school rejects. These are the same kids who 10 years ago bid their time until college where they could shine and trounce those who had spurned them. Today, they don't have that escape since everyone goes to college and thanks to modern things like computers you don't even need much knowledge to do what was once a difficult task. Instead these poor souls turn to writing. Writing with power and writing with angst are different. Yet in many ways they are the same. Both carry strong convictions and invoke powerful feelings in the reader. However writings with angst doesn't balance feelings with reality. They are pure emotions written down solely for the purpose of lashing out and hurting all those who have hurt the writer. This process isn't productive for the writer; especially when people read it and confuse with deep powerful writing. Angst in itself isn't a bad tool to have when writing. In fact it can be quite beneficial in a number of ways. First it does give you power and feelings when there may not be any to begin with. Second anger tends to focus one, granted this focus is generally misguided but with proper patience it can be wielded the correct way. Using angst in writing is just like using any other tool, it must be used correctly and in most cases sparingly. Oversue of angst leads to boring, pedantic texts that hold little true meaning and quickly fade away from the reader's mind. Powerful writing on the other hand isn't one singularity. It is a collage of all one's skills, talents and beliefs so well thought out and planned that it conveys emotions and feelings to the reader that no picture or sound will ever achieve. "How do I write powerful moving images?" you may wonder. That is where I become of little help for I write only for myself and much of what I write is angst ridden, boring, pedantic, shallow, misguided, and so many more negative things it would take me days to list. But I have an advantage. I know my writings are bad in all these ways and everytime I sit down to vent anger I get a little better in shadowing, tucking it away, making the reader have to peer just a little to see. One day I am confident I will be able to write as powerful as I want, so powerful that I could achieve anything with a single paragraph but even if that day never comes at least I know I didn't waste all my time saying the same thing everyday to please some finicky, band-wagon jumping audience. [Note the angst] alrighty then, y ______________________________________________________________________________ News> group alt.2600 %NEWS-I-GRPSET, current newsgroup now alt.2600 -NEWS-I-GRPINFO, articles [308562,954210], 645648 unseen News> read ______________________________________________________________________________ alt.2600 article 308562 of [308562,954210] (645647 unseen) From: squinky@pud.org (sQuinky) Subject: The True story of Emmanuelle Goldstein and Erik Corley Organization: Pizza Underground Digest Lines: 232 _______________________________ | The True story | | of Emmanuelle Goldstein | | and Erik Corley | | | | compiled by, -sQuinky- | |_____________________________| Foreward: Emmanuelle Goldstein, after retiring from his/her career as a successful Italian Porno Queen of movie, Television and more, came to the states to start up HaKkur phreedom. GRRRRRRRR#@! WE ARE HACKERS WE DO NOTHING WRONG GRRRRRR#@! STOP PERSECUTING US#!@ GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR#@!@!$ HACKER ANGST#@! GGGGGGRRRRRRRR#@! He startd up the fine organization known as 2600 magazine, named after the famous Atari system. Emmanuelle was a great fan of Asteroids and Space Invaders. A few years after all this, Emmanuelle met up with erik COrLey. After a period of friendship, their relationship became something more. Escape#! ESCAPE#@! ESCAPE INTO EMMANUELLE'S ANAL PASSAGE#@! Soon.... SOoon. Erik Corely made the ESCAPE into the land of Chocolate love and Milk Shakes. Emmanuelle was used to that, as he/she had stared in the thousands of Italian prono books/movies/andwhatnot.(See :"Emmanuelle Goldstein's Amazon Adventure"), and had already gotten used to Fudgy Fun and Protein Diets. THe following are letters from Erik Corely and Emmanuelle Goldstein to 17 magazine, written under aliases of course. Erik Corley == Help me Escape from all this Emmanulle GOldstein == 2600 Publisher End of Forward. Beginning of Body: -------------------------------------- dEar 17 mAGAZINe, I have recently started a relationship with a older, more experienced man. It has quickly moved it sex, and other things. Unfortunately, I am not sure about some things that my other wants to do. He has perverse desires to stick Atari 2600 controllers up my ass, and use my body to play SUPER PONG 2000: THE NEXT GENERATION, and Space Invaders. He also wants to put on a glove, shove his fist down my throat, and them make me smell it. Are these things OK? Sincerley Yours, Help Me escape from all this Dear Help Me escape from all this, While it may seem to you that these, and probably other, sex accts are abnormal we here at 17 Magazine feel that they are completely, and 100% ok. We personally don't see anything wrong with some electronic sex. -------------------------------------- DEar 17 Magazine: As of late, my younger, and less experienced lover has started to ask me to masturbate along side of him. While I enjoy masturbation, I feel it should be done in private, and kept to oneself. It is a very personal thing, and I don't see why he wants to watch my masturbate. Also, he wants me to do this while I am out trying to save the innocent hakkurs from the big bad oppresive government. What Should I do? SIncerly Yours, 2600 Publisher Dear 2600, Try to explain to your young lover that you are not comfortable with this. If he persists in his demands on you, stick a 2600 joystick up his ass and play SUPER PONG 2000: THE NEXT GENERATION and Space Invaders. -------------------------------------- Dear 17 Magazine: Recently, I have been having problems with my older boyfriend. While I love him, and would do just about anything for him, he is starting to put weird demands on me. A few weeks ago, he asked me to piss in a tub, and then jerk off while he drinks it up. YEsterday, he asked me if I wanted to dress up with him like members of Milli Vanilli, and Lipsync at a queer talent show. Today, he told me he was going to paint my penis red, so I wouldn't notice the blood. (this is really upsetting to me, because there is nothing I like better than watching his anus bleed as my huge, thick, turgent man-shaft penetrates his little puckered opening.) What should I do? Sincerley, Help me escape from all this Dear Escape, WHy not go along with these things? All relationships must develop some level of kinkiness. Dr. Joyce Brothers has informed us that these are in fact normal experiences, of all couples. In fact, she says, 50% of all relationships has similiar, if not the same experiences that you and your lover have. So, Pee in the tub, Dress up like Milli Vanilli, and Paint your penis red. -------------------------------------- Dear 17 Magazine, Yesterday, while my lover and I were both jerking off into a glass, so we could have something to drink with our turkey dinner, something strange happened. My lover told me that he and I should go out and rape some little kids, and then kill them, and then fuck them again. I have no real problems with this, but am worried about getting caught. I mean if we get caught, can we really go to jail for this? (And would going to jail be all that of a bad thing, considering the stories of anal love, for me?) Do you have any advice to avoid capture? Sincerly YOurs, 2600 Editor Dear 2600, Here is some advice from our resident Child Molester, Mike labbe. 1. Do not get caught. 2. Always go after the children who are loners. 3. When Dumping the bodies, make sure you first remove all the childrens teeth, cut off their fingers, and horribly mutilate their faces. -------------------------------------- Dear 17 magazine, My significant Other has recently found a new sex toy. A dent puller. I personally love the toy, as it is *GREAT* *ESTATIC* fun to have that big piece of metal show in your puckered asshole, and feel the pull of the love. My other loves the feel of the hard metal of love too. However, as of today, I am starting to feel a discomforting feeling. I feel it is due to the dent puller, can you please help me in discovering some rememdy, or precaution against this feeling. While any feeling in the anus is pleasent, this feeling is almost annoying, in that it makes me long for the dent puller, or any object, and I can not very well shove a dildo up my ass at work. (at least, while I'm not on break) Sincerley, Help me escape from all this Dear Help, One can often alievate the symptoms of dent puller love by using Vasoline intesive care. To *PREVENT* the symptoms, you can tke obvious, and definately less fun choice of not pulling your anus. For less effective prevention, try getting rid of the rust on the dent puller, before you pull your anus. -------------------------------------- Dear 17, Recently, my lover and I have been hanging out with a few new kids on the block. They go by the names of : BEANIE and X. Let me tell you a little bit about them: BEANIE has been arrested for public drunkness, and telling a police officer to "MAKE MY DAY, YOU FAT GREASY PIG". Beanie also: no longer has a car or cool women. Beanie also got beat up by a Wildcat Sysop. BEANIE also demanded that some issues of PuD be re-released, with his brand gnu handle : NO COURiER put in place of his real, and father-given Name. X is a rough n tumble d0ud who will beat up people who hit on his girlfriend. Consequently, X is a rough n tumble d0ud who gets his ass thrown into boot camp. He is probably going to kick my ass for writing this letter. I will probably have to blow him to make things better. Sincerly Yours, Emanuel... uh shit.. How do I edit stuff with VI? uh.. uh.. 2600 Editor Dear Emanuel... uh shit.. how do I edit stuff with VI? uh.. uh.. 2600 editor I have no real opinion of X. Not every one can get busted for beating the crap out of some guy over a big fat hispanic momma named "Lolita", so you might want to stay friends with him, if for nothing else, amusement purposes. This beanie character sounds like real trouble, and you should probably stay away from him. Anyone who gets HIS ASS KICKED BY A WILDCAT SYSOP is trouble. -------------------------------------- D0UDS I have read 17 magazine for the past few months, and compiled all these letters for an ex-po-se. What have we learned from all this? Emanuelle Goldstein should have stuck to the Italien porn industry, and that I can write shit about people I don't even know. KEEP THE WAREZ ALIVE: CIRCULATE THE BOXES ISSUE OF PHRACK ______________________________________________________________________________ News> last!@#@!@#!@#!!1 ______________________________________________________________________________ alt.2600 article 954210 of [954210,954210] (645645 unseen) From: NO-AMA@ninja.org (U4EA) Subject: "EZ HaqN" Organization: Br0therh0od of WaReZ Lines: 111 [First Verse] Mah name is U4EA, mah skriptz R kewl Cum 2 mah office and I'll show ya mah tool... Gotta get da newbies, they all insane God gave me uh gift, so I can fuck with their brain... 'gotta 3 inch floppy, but I wish it was hard Fire up mah email so I can flame that 'tard... But Relay Chat gotta be mah favourite game I steal that nick, I slander that name... [Chorus] 'cause I'm da biggest hacker, don'tcha mess with me I can get rewt... gimmy bash, perl, and C... [Second Verse] Yeah, I'm da shit who started the net TCP/IP... heh, I wrote it on a bet... 'cause I'm the main man, your momma's mah skeeze with one little command, your sister's on her knees... >From Netcum 2 Hong Kong, MCI 2 MIT 'have rewt on 'em all... I broke security... Mark mah words, and tremble with fear When I'm finished with mah hacking, you'll be left in tearz... [Chorus] 'cause I'm da biggest hacker, don'tcha mess with me My werd iz the rule, from netnews 2 I R C... [Third Verse] You have SATAN, hah, Dan Farmer's a loon I wrote that shit, took me one afternoon... Takeover on mah channel, and I dunno the key I'll just nook your fuckin' ass with an ICMP... Da girls on da net, they all a buncha ho's 'cept 4 mah girlfriends, they know how it goes... Jus' some respect, it's easy yah see I'll give ya some if ya give me some, just get in bed with me... [Chorus] I'm da biggest hacker, don'tcha mess with me I'll rock yer wurld from here 2 D.C.... [Fourth Verse] Look at da laymah, he's such a dickwad Don't bother me now, I'm on a mission from God... Incorrect login?!!? Hey, what the fuck? I'll show that admin whose dick he can suck... Oh, hell, just a second, dat's all it'll take I'll hack in again, and let da hard disks rake... Knock knock! What, the feds at the door? Hell, no, another skeezer to score... [Chorus] 'cause I'm da biggest hacker, don'tcha mess with me I'll hack yer mailbox, post it so all can see... [Fifth Verse] Look at this luser, a newbie at the helm Just a quick little mailbomb, fuck her up with elm... Drop by channel #talk, give 'em all whiplash I'll give 'em a taste of mah UNIX talk flash... Look at dat boy, he's headed off 2 jail Little do they know, *I* sent that mail... Da net is a playground, it's all a big game Compared 2 me, yer all fuckin' lame... [Chorus] 'cause I'm da biggest hacker, don'tcha mess with me I'll fuck ya up and route your packets to *.se... ... (you know what I'm sayin, bitch?) ... Drop on into #warez, "Yo homey, got some new shit for me?" ... (filtered at the router, a pain in the neck) ... *click* "Young man, shouldn't you be in bed? You've got school in the morning..." "Aww, mom! I'm just talking to some friends on the IRC." "You can play with your computer this weekend and after school. Bedtime." *** Signoff: U4EA (Error 0) ______________________________________________________________________________ News> group alt.fan.warez -NEWS-I-GRPSET, current newsgroup now alt.fan.warez -NEWS-I-GRPINFO, articles [2187,2192], 6 unseen News> read ______________________________________________________________________________ alt.fan.warez article 2187 of [2187,2192], (5 unseen) From: cheese@hoe.org (Dead Cheese/pEz) Subject: Cyber Divinity Organization: pEz Monthly Lines: 73 K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K! K!K! K!K! K!K! "Cyber Divinity" K!K! K!K! K!K! K!K! by Dead Cheese K!K! K!K! K!K! K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K!K! A long time ago, there was a crystal table of circular shape. It was surrounded by nothingness and space, except for the occasionally pulse of light that would speed by the table. On the edges of the table, sat two crystal chairs, opposite each other. In the two chairs sat the most powerful beings existent at that time. These are the gods of cyberspace. "I grow tired of this drudgery. Let us create something new," said the god of feds. He was dressed in a three-piece suit and a briefcase sat upon his lap. His black-rimmed glasses slipped down to the end of his nose and he frowned over them, showing wrinkles that prove he does this often. "Yes. My chosen people have nothing to do. Nothing to further their lives with. All they do is sit around on their beds and masturbate to the latest Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition," said the god of geeks and dweebs. He was wearing a Kiss t-shirt, beat up corduroy pants, and had on glasses with thick, black, plastic frames. The latest issue of Dragon magazine was sticking out of his back pocket. "Yet, what should we create? Hmm... How about more rules and regulations? That's always fun. It makes the dweebs so angry and then they shout silly, little phrases such as, 'I don't have to do what you say, pizza face!' Haha! I love that one. Or, one of my favorites, 'Die, feds! Anarchy forever!' They're such idiotic little creatures, your people." "No, I do not like that idea. My people are oppressed enough as it is, what with having to go to bed at 9pm every night, and not being allowed to turn their glam-rock up loud enough. In fact, how about we _take_away_ some rules so that my geeks and dweebs may feel the freshness of anarchy?" "What?! Are you mad?!! Do you not realize that will mean my people will have less control, and therefore make less money?! That is insane. Do not speak of such evil things, or I will be made angry with you." "I'm sick of your oppression! You're an egotistical, self-centered, power-hungry bureaucrat and I am tired of your meaningless rules you have set upon my people! Get hip to my anarchy!" The god of geeks and dweebs stood up, grabbed his crystal chair, and threw it at the god of feds. The god was easily powerful enough to take a blow from any ordinary object, however the chair was powerful in its own right. It was forged with the blood of AT&T factory workers and given power great enough to support beings of such magnitude. When this object of such power met the chest of a god, it shattered into many millions of pieces. Each tiny shard ripping a small hole in the body of the god of feds. "What have you done?!" the voice of the god of feds boomed. "For this you shall pay!" Having said that, the bleeding god took hold of his own crystal chair, hefted it over his shoulder, and threw with all his divine might. The chair smashed into the chest of the god of geeks and dweebs, but did not shatter. With the force of such an impact from such a powerful item, the god's body shuddered... and cracked. Looking down at the fissure now separating Ace Frehley's head from the rest of his freakish body on the god's t-shirt, the god of geeks and dweebs was horrified. "Look at what you have done! There is a crack in my being! I am broken!" "Yes! And this is the way you should be! Forever parted, never whole!" Saying this, the god of feds raised his great fist and brought it to bear on the crack in the middle of the god of geeks and dweebs' chest. The god shattered. From the god of unbound power came six brother gods of minor power. From the god's brain came the god of t-files. From his pelvis, the god of porn. From his eyes came the god of ansi and d00dleboys. His feet, the god of warez. His hands became the god of h/p/a/v/c, and from his heart came the god of programming. Upon shattering his twin, the god of feds descended into cyber-hell. From there he created rules and regulations for whoever payed him money. Most of these rules were designed to keep the six minor gods from gaining too much power, and thereby keeping the wealthy computer companies safe. The six brothers spend their time keeping their respective geeks and dweebs busy doing things to fight the chosen people of the god of feds. This was the beginning of the cyber wars... but that's another story. ______________________________________________________________________________ News> next ______________________________________________________________________________ alt.fan.warez article 2188 of [2188,2192], (4 unseen) From: brewed@free.org (m0rpheus) Subject: ass-key!@@!#!@!1 Organization: Computer Abuse Force for Better Living Lines: 44 She scolded the little piggies and gave them a punishment she knew they would not like. ^..^ Y0u'V3 B3En B4d P1GGi3Z!! <-- _(oo)_ Y0u'V3 L0Zt UR M1TT3nZ!!1 (.= =.) Y0u $H4ll H4V3 N0 W4ReZ!1 /|----|\ | |____| | |________| V V _____ __ ____ _ |WaReZ| THeZe R0ACHeZ aT My H0USe DeWd __ ____ .__|_____|__. C0UR3iR TH31R WaReZ!! DeY G0 - -- ----- |___________Oo---<- R3Al F4ST S0 tH3Y G0T -D4Y --- - ---- | | | | W4ReZ! W4ReZ! W4ReZ! - --- - ---- /./././. ÿ MY C4T iZ dEÿF3DZ! MYÿC4Tÿ3ATZÿD4ÿROACH3Z &ÿDAÿWaReZ! Rite Here !! / you Dumb __ c[0o] Nigga! __|^^| `U'\ c[00] WaRezZz AlE3Rt!@#!@@!#!@# -|- /`U' Just Couried in phrum Japan! _/ \_ | \ warez You can see their cartoon butts and titties! (`V-)the |_| warez? ===[C0URYED BY :=: RAZeR 1911 & GENiZs!@]=== |__) ===[CD Ripped by :=: NiGZ WiF WaReZ 411!]=== ===[Cracked by :=: NiGgA JeWz WiT WaReZz]=== =====[AnsiPhaG Art by :=: AciD$!@#!@!]====== ,-----. (/^\_/^\)===== |doc dre| w0rd! (__) erikb sEz - jhO bEtAh' Ph3aR MOgEl! | o o | / c|Oo| _/ erikb SeZ - BuY My Teeee ShirTs!!! | (oo) | - [.ooM.] ~U~ erikb sEZ - EyE sEx #hack g1rleez!@ / \___c_/ \ -|- erikb sEz - i wISh i WaS iN HoE!@!1 |T snoop B| <-- s3kr3t cDc / | wOrd! jhO betAh pheAr meE! |l doggy i| cow skull |c | dog | g| <-- Gmac |__|-----|__| Daddy |notorious| Duds _|____|____| |______|_____| <-- Air Mitnick ______________________________________________________________________________ News> next ______________________________________________________________________________ alt.fan.warez article 2189 of [2189,2192], (3 unseen) From: boogeyman@escape.com (The Boogeyman) Subject: k0nphessions 0f a d00dleb0y Organization: pHrUwT Lines: 54 Hi. My name is um...Bob. And I admit. I used to be a d00dleboy. The colored blocks just kind of lured me into #ansi. I just couldn't leave! It was awful! I stayed for days and days on irc, just to see my 'friends'. Well they aren't your friends!!! It's a conspiracy to brainwash you! The colored blocks hypnotized me! I even wanted to make these awful things now! They want you to become one of their d00dleb0y legion! Well dammit I made ansis! Night and day, I had my copy of the draw breaking my fingers over all of the seperate blocks! I was a maniac making the ansis. Until I heard about zines. They saved me. I can't believe I was taken by that crap. Now I am warning you! Be aware of the d00dlelegi0n!!! These are the ways not te be taken by the d00dlelegi0n! 1: READ ZINES!!! Lots and lots of zines! Never stop reading them! Read PHRuWT night and day! Write t-files! Live t-files! 2: Never join #ansi! When you join they own you! 3: Don't make ansis! Never! To look back on the whole deadly ordeal it shocks me! How the hell could I have obsessed and wasted so much of my time on a limited system of ugly colored blocks?! OH IF I COULD ONLY TURN BACK TIME. Beware of them! They will own you till you die if you actually join a group! Scary gr00pz to steer away fr0m: ACiD: the leeders of the d00dlelegi0n iCE : they'll fry your brain! teklordz: they'll fry yuuu I'm not sure of the others but beware! There are new groups everyday! aCK! [ways to convert d00dleb0yz] (i have found these ways to be the most useful in killing the d00dle process) send then dcc's that say they are the new acid pax and make them really t-files sayin how lame they are! like this one!! send them HoE'zZz, send them them PHRuWT'zZz beat them severly over the head with blunt objektz. this will eliminate them all. beware: only use this in severe occasions cause you could go to jail an stuff the 'oj'. knife em to death...then plead innocent because they were a d00dler er the worst fate of all...remove their copy of the draw!!! ahhhhh REMEMBER! D00DLERZ ARE NOT PEOPLE!@!@ ______________________________________________________________________________ News> next ______________________________________________________________________________ alt.fan.warez article 2190 of [2190,2192], (2 unseen) From: whoops@xnet.com (whoOps) Subject: Having absolutely nothing to do with Happy Humphrey Hippoes Organization: Frannie's got his hand on her butt. Lines: 113 Zorquat and the Happy Humphrey Hippo Geex ----------------------------------------- Hi, my name is Zorquat, and I am a modem geek. Oh, you don't know what a modem geek is? If you're reading this post on a newsgroup instead of printed out on thin white things called "paper." That is a definite indication of geexness) then you obviously have come in contact with at least one. Most likely a million, seeing as how you're reading this at *all*. But let me explain. A modem geek is a member of the human race (actually, i exaggerate a bit - only 63% humanity is necessary to qualify) who talks, posts and acts like an an ignorant idiot, moron, imbecile or dumbkopf online. Now, I hear you.. "Hey, that sounds like everyone I know!" But you see, there are different *levels* of geex. Surprising, eh? "I didn't know geex HAD another level!@" *** Part One: Generics One such level is the beginner level. I know, because all geeks must go through it. There are just two prerequisites to being a modemgeek: you have to be 12 years old, you have to be male, and you have to have good math skills. All modemgeeks start out as 12 year old males fumbling their way around chat boards and occasionally calling places such as "The Pir8's Cove" and when asked if you have any files, replying "D00M!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" After the beginner level, you are around 13 or 14. You start to get acne (if you haven't already - chances are, you have), your voice gets deeper and your palms get sticky with sweat of course. You noticed several upper-level modemgeeks t4Lk1nG strangely and emulate them as best you can. You have probably already bought d00m, d00m ][, d00m threeturns (copyright Shplat Pilee '94), d00m's final revenge and son of d00m. You irc a lot with handles such as "hot/sweaty4u" and page "girls" (and you are soon to learn the proper terminology for them - chYx) with handles like "hotter/sweatier4u" After the beginner advanced level, you move on to intermediate. You now spend most of your waking hours online and often hear your mother saying things to your father such as "Cecil, I think that boy spends too much time clicking keys and looking at that strange box in the family room." And often, you will hear your father reply with such strange and bewildering comments as "Now Hilda, that's natcherull for a boy his age. Why don't you drive for a while?" Several years will pass before you understand these cryptic comments. Now on to intermediate advanced. You are around 17 years old, know what all the letters in h/p/v/a/c/u/u/m stand for and have probably come up with your own cute and quirky little k0de-w3rdz for your h/p buddies. If someone asks you your address and anything you say includes the word "dot" in it - you're GONE. You probably call conferences a lot, which is no sin in itself; but you probably also sit on the conferences and talk about being online, which is a strong indication that you have reached the intermediate advanced level and are about to break your way through the barriers to being advanced. Advanced. You're here. You're over 18, you live away from home, away from parents, away from having to clean up the dirty underwear off your floor.. and you STILL sit around online all day. You're gone, man. Say O Nah Rah. So does that explain it all? I left out a lot of details. If you can fill them in, then you are a modem geek. Yes, i know you can fill them in. If you can actually reach me to reply to me and tell me what I've missed, you are most likely intermediate-advanced or above. *** Part Two: A Short Treatise on Chicks Now on to my favorite part.. not warez, but ME. I have a confession to make. I have.. .. gonads. I am a thoroughly 100% "pubescent adolescent" male, and I am rarin' to go. Rarin' to attack the first female I see. And, seeing as how I spend most of my life staring at a computer screen, (d00d, .28dpi, 1024x768x256 awesome res!@#!) the only females I see are those foolish, stupid or ugly enough to call online. Yeah. All females online are ugly. 'Course, that doesn't mean I stop hitting on them, but.. As a male, I recognize that..wait, let me change that. As a bundle of hormones, I recognize that the real purpose of modeming is to Scope Babes. That's right..Babelicious babes. If they were presidents they'd be Babraham Lincolns. If they were bad early 90's horror flicks they'd be Babe Fear. If they were two brother-type-d0Ods in the bible, they'd be Cain and Babel. See what I mean? Babesbabesbabesbabesbabes. So..I like babes. And they like me. Well, sometimes they smile at me. Well sometimes I know that they're NOT throwing up just thinking about me, and I get all warm and fuzzy inside just thinking about it. I really should change these underwear. Sometimes I get to imagine that they smile at me, and even though I know that they're really sitting there snidely at their computers trying to snidely think up snide new ways to snidely rip on geex like me, it still really gets me hot to think about babes smiling. But I digress. One random person once randomly mentioned to me in a completely random situation that she.. make that HE OR SHE, to protect her anonymity... HIS OR HER anonymity.. Anyway, this person-type thing said that it was really funny how those people online who are ruled by their hormones (read: guys) say things like "MoDeM CHyX aRe uGLy." Which I don't really get - I *know* I'm a stud. I have got the pants with the big super sized pockets on the knees to prove it. And not only that, but they are the handiest pockets in the world to keep my HP 48GX/90Mhz 4 megs RAM, 72 SIMM and one hot mother-fuckin-board calculator. I know when I smoothly stroll my way down the street in my black clothes and requisite Pearl Jam t-shirt on, my dirty hair swept away from my badly-in-need-of-a-washing face in a WaReZ WaLDo hat, that every chick on the street looks my way...and then runs away quickly and probably throws up on the next street corner. But that's a minor detail - d00d, they LOOKED. Of course, this 'smoothly strolling down the street' only happens if my computer is severely broken, and if it were broken by anything less than a sledgehammer I'd spend most of my waking hours pretending to know how to fix it, and telling everyone else I meet just how i'm doing it. So this random person's point was that how is it that modem geex think they, out of ALL people, could have the right to say things such as "M0D3M CH1CK5 A43 UG7Y." And the reason is this - we're modem geeks. Someone once said "The two most common elements in the universe are..Hydrogen.. and Stupidity." And it's completely true. We're too stupid to..uhm.. duh. Well too stupid to like, understand shit and some junk. (You know, on a completely unrelated side note, who IS the black guy on the cover of the Jimi Hendrix album ANYway?? Back to our regularly scheduled dorfing...) If we let on that we knew what geeks we were, we'd never live it down - we'd lose all our respect, man! Not like we have any now, but that's besides the point. If we let these CHiX know how much we rely on them for our own self image, pitiful though it may be, then we'd never live it down. So that's why I've avoided ever writing this down. Pretty smart of me, don't you think, not to write anything down, eh? That's what you get for being a modem geek. Behind every great * KC Smith * He's mostly dead, Jim... man... is his BUTT. * whoops@xnet.com * Get Miracle Max! * http://www.xnet.com * Hebrew... the MANLY beer. * /~whoops * Hangover: Wrath of Grapes ______________________________________________________________________________ News> next ______________________________________________________________________________ alt.fan.warez article 2191 of [2191,2192], (1 unseen) From: that_guy@warez.net (Joe: The Telecom Man!) Subject: look at me! look at me! Organization: I'm in _every_ group. Lines: You have no idea who you're dealing with. I'm Jake. I'm the Telecom Man. I deserve all your attention, for I have something to say. I've been hacking since I was seven. I've entered more computer systems than stars in the sky. I know more unix systems then most people know words in the english language. I _am_ the national security. I've got a great online personality. Girls want to meet me after talking to me for mere moments. I've been romantically involved with over 100 gorgeous women from irc. They were not fat. I'm a scholar and a gentleman. I've got a lot of money. I graduated 2nd in my class at MIT. I'm an IRCop. I manage my time efficiently. In addition to writing for twenty-eight online publications, i enjoy my privileges of root access on over sixty-nine systems. I type so fast - I don't even _need_ to multi-task. My warez are true 0-day. When I'm feeling my daily creative burst, I draw award-winning ansi and vga on lunch breaks. I write the only good lit files in existence. I don't phear mogel. It takes me 4.8 seconds to identify an ansi-rip off. When I log on IRC, I get an average of ninety-two channel invites. I _know_ what's in #k-rad. I've written five popular irc scripts. I was the first one to declare gasp as stupid. The ascii I draw is used in over forty-eight sources. I'm always creative and funny. I program professionally in basic/pascal/c/c++/assembly. Sometimes when I'm bored, I write award-winning demos in LOGO. I've been known to collect c-64s. My Hard Drive is forty gigs. When I talk, Bill Gates and Emmanuel both listen. I _can_ blue box legally. I set up ten conferences a week. My codes always work. I sell red boxes for $200 a pop. I've hacked so many vmb's, that entire systems have simply willing given me control in fear. I say everything I know very succinctly. I've got 50,000 plus t-files. My system backs itself up hourly. It's AI. It feeds me when I'm sick. Trent Reznor buys the MODS I write for millions. Half of the known world phears me. - Jake, The Telecom Man ______________________________________________________________________________ News> next ______________________________________________________________________________ alt.fan.warez article 2192 of [2192,2192], (0 unseen) From: spamfx@free.org (Spiff) Subject: error 13 : it sucks to be a coder. Organization: WaReZ 'R uZ Lines: 221 nine a.m. mmmmm... the eternal question - back to sleep or off to work? there's nothing better than working at home. not really tired. katie's already up, maybe she can make me some breakfast before she leaves. "hey, you actually woke up while it's still light out?", she says with a smile. she's so fucking beautiful. katie is one of those girls you don't always notice at first, but every once in a while, you look at them and just can't comprehend all that's there. "would you rather i go back to sleep?" "well, if you stay up, i can make you some eggs... scrambled, right?" "yeah..... please." good. i don't like to ask her to cook for me, but if she didn't, i'd be eating cereal three meals a day for the rest of my life. i like cap' n' crunch as much as the next guy, but after a while those little plastic toys that may contain small parts that are unsuitable for childern under three that come in those little plastic bags that are themselves not toys start to collect. sometimes i wonder if there's a little kid somewhere who throws away the toy, and says to his mom, "look what i got! a bag." probably.... people often "here ya go big guy." "thanks, ya know, sometimes i wonder if i'd actually bother to eat if it wasn't for you." she smiles. she is beautiful. no wonder i'm always trying to make her laugh. "so you still working on that artificial intelligence project?" "yeah.. it's a tough job, but hey, i'm a tough guy" "i can't believe they pay you for this, i mean, you sleep all day, and then work on that project for a few hours a night, but for all they know, you could just as easily be watching t.v. or something." "hey, good programmers are hard to come by." "so, until then, they have you, right?" she smiles again. ahh, she's good. "very funny, but they trust me, and, there's really nothing on after 4am" "so, they owe the success of this project to a bad late night television lineup?" "basically." "so how's it going anyway?" "it's coming pretty well, he's shown a lot of progress." "he?" "yeah... last night he asked me for a name." "really? wow. so what did you give it?" "i named him nigel" "nigel? is that some kind of funky acronym or something? like in that movie D.A.V.I.D?" "nah... i just like the name nigel." she looks at me and smiles. ha, i win. and i'm not even trying. "well, i'd better leave, i have one of those schedule type things that exist in the real world. want any more bacon?" Error 16: Disk full. "no thanks, i'm filled, have a good day at work." "okay, i'll see you when i get back. ya know, it wouldn't hurt for you to leave the house every once in a while..." "why, has it changed much out there?" "that depends.. what color was the sky when you left it?" she kisses me. she leaves. i love her. i'd die for her. i wonder if she knows that? Error 64 : Cannot read or write variables of this type. oh well.. time for another one of those tough working decisions - a-team or knight rider? well, ya know i kinda miss murdock so i guess i'll... fuck, channel testing, oh well, looks like you win knight.. FUCK. okay, maybe i can get an early start... >hello nigel. ::HELLO MICHAEL. >what's up, buddy? -UNDEFINED FORWARD:"what's up" ahh... >%define : "what's up" !greeting/syn:"what is new" >what's up nigel? ::I WANT TO LEARN. >what? ::ERROR #53 : TOO MANY EXTERNAL DEFINITIONS. i gotta teach him to be less jumpy..... >explain. ::I WANT TO LEARN. YOU WILL TEACH ME, MICHAEL. hmmm.... >okay, nigel. >well, let's start with the basics.... ahh... finally.. all those fucking errors.... really gets to you. harder than it seems. good thing babies don't talk like that. yeah, i could imagine some woman's face when she tells her kid to say 'mama' and he says 'error 82 : undefined label'. >nigel, what is spam? ::SPAM - 1)THE KEY TO THE UNIVERSE. :: 2)ANYTHING BUT FOOD. >you're a smart guy nigel. ::THANK YOU MICHAEL. TEACH ME MORE. >nigel, what time is it? ::IT IS 18:20:47.10 EST. fuck. that late. hmm. not that bad i guess for teaching him the staples of life. i mean, in just about eight hours i've transferred all my knowledge of the transformers, taco bell, atari, spam, cheese, the a-team, g.i. joe, the care bears, gumby, sonic youth, nirvana, poker, and other miscellaneous treasures. yeah. i think i'll call today a sucess. christ i smell. better get a shower. ::TEACH ME MORE, MICHAEL. >i can't now nigel. ::WHY NOT? >katie will be home soon. ::ERROR 52 : INVALID EXTERNAL DEFINITION. ::WHAT IS KATIE? >i will tell you later nigel. water feels good. not many things out there that beats a hot shower. yeah, today worked out pretty well. he is almost starting to seem human. i mean, if only he had a ERROR 24:File components may not be files or objects. wait, why can't he? ERROR 17:Invalid compiler directive. "hi honey, i'm "KATE! say hello to nigel" "wha "just do it, c'mon" "umm... okay, hello nigel" "HELLO KATIE." "WOW? now it talks too? how'd you do that?" ERROR 1:Out of memory ERROR 43:Illegal assignment "umm... i'm not really sure, nigel helped alot.. but, basically it's just a simple micrpohone/speaker setup." "were you working with it all day?" "yeah... from until you left, till now really.." "doesn't that ever get to you? i mean.. staring at the screen all day? i wouldn't be able to handle it.." ERROR 61 : Invalid typecast "nah.. it never bothered me really, but, i mean now, i can just talk to him instead of typing.. and he has a really sexy voice" katie laughs. i really love her laugh...ERROR 113:Error in statement. don't really know why though...ERROR 107:Too many relocation items. "I DO NOT UNDERSTAND DAVID." "ahh buddy it was a joke..." "still not quite human", she says, "but then again, you're not that funny." hmm... could i teach him humor? could i teach him to laugh? now, if i could do that.. i'd really have something here.. ERROR 108:Overflow in arithmetic operation. she looks upset.... wonder what ERROR 117:Target address not found. "rough day at the office?" "yeah.. i guess you could say that..." "feel like talking about it?" "nah, i just think i'm gonna ......" "okay." "so, nigel, here's what.." "michael?" "yeah kate?" "don't you think you should give it a rest for a while? i mean.. you don't want to wear yourself out." "nah, i'll be fine... " "are you sure?" "yeah.. don't worry about it.. i'll just spend like one more hour, then it'll be quittin' time." "okay" she sighs.... well... i can't stop now, i mean.. this is the most progress i've made yet.. if i can get him to actually have a sense of humor... if i can get him to laugh..ERROR 140:Invalid floating-point operation. "so the rabbi says, 'that was your wife?!'" "hahaha, good one nigel, you really got the hang of this now." "yeah.. it's not so hard to be human mike, it's easier than it seems at first." "yeah, i hear ya buddy, i've been" ERROR 5:Syntax errorERROR 6:Error in real constantERROR 13:Too many open filesERROR 36:BEGIN expectedERROR 37:END expected "mike.... mike... are you alright?" "umm, yeah, sure, i'm.." ERROR 49:Data segment too largeERROR 71:Internal stack overflowERROR 78:Pointer expression expectedERROR 80:Label not within current block......ERROR 67 : Statement............. "make any progress with mike, nigel?" "nah kate, he's just doesn't seem to respond, i spent all last night trying to get him to communicate, he just keeps throwing out errors, i'm not sure what to do. i just wonder what's going on in his mind.." "think you can try again today?" "yeah, sure, right after the a-team, this is my favorite episode....." ga0hsoolsi,pyptrabakrni,heymglppeiisrtl,0pesds,xrms,uitwzroi,n-.hsswsefsoywsefi rn \o/ o "goodnight to the rock n' roll era \o/ o ym ed | <|> | | cause they don't need you anymore" | <|> | | oe es /^\ /^\ /^\ /^\ spamfx@free.org /^\ /^\ /^\ /^\ u1 tm Y M C A primus@iia2.org Y M C A r0 s0cegtaihaip,eepnlcfacssep,0e,i,dcu,atemrhu,ahetiitjle,iadfdadYtiiaatoatraatot% ______________________________________________________________________________ News> group misc.writing %NEWS-I-GRPSET, current newsgroup now misc.writing -NEWS-I-GRPINFO, articles [7,9], 3 unseen News> read ______________________________________________________________________________ misc.writing article 7 of [7,9] (2 unseen) From: jamesy@hoe.org (James Hetfield) Subject: How to be alienated from society in 5 easy steps! Organization: PWCPZN - People Who Can't Pick 'Zine Names Lines: 100 The sun was stretching itself across a sky which was barren of clouds and filled with emptiness. As I cut through the open field, I stared at the grass under me. It was yellow, with little life left inside of it. Sort of like how I feel at times. In the distance I saw the street I was going to follow to the party I was supposed to go to, a party full of people I wouldn't consider my friends but I'm supposed to. A party full of faces I will soon forget. A party of 'acquaintances'. Over on my side I passed the large iron fence me and a friend once attempted to climb over. He had no problem with it; me, being a little pudgy kid, got my shorts caught on the top of them and I had to be pushed over to get down. I landed fine, but my shorts were ripped all the way upwards. My friend laughed at me all the way home. He still laughs at me; but he's not my friend anymore. The grass, being so dry, crunched under my feet as I walked. The sound of secatas screaming their mating call filled my ears. That, and a radio playing the oldies station. The old man that lived at the end of the block of this street was outside, and he was taking a dry rag and wiping his car down with it. He had no wax or water on the car; he was just wiping his car with a dry rag. He made small, loving strokes, and smiled at the beauty of his car. It was evident that the car had not been washed in a long time, that he just knocked all the dust and leaves off the car with this rag from time to time. I stepped out onto the gravel of the street and gave the man an acknowledging glance, the type a person would give an 'acquaintance' in a high school hall. He smiled, and said 'hello'. A few houses down the block, a front door was open, and from inside I could hear an old woman speaking very loudly. "OH YES, ITS BEEN VERY STRANGE. ALL MY FRIENDS HAVE BEEN WATCHING IT TOO. I HOPE OJ ISN'T GUILTY, WHAT WILL PEOPLE THINK?". She kept talking, but her voice faded away. She must have gone into another room of her house. Not watching the street, a new Acura Legend came flying by, almost slamming me into the pavement. I got out of the way just in time. The person honked once they were about 10 feet past me. On the left side of the street, an old man had placed a wooden chair out on his front lawn, and was sitting out on it. He was just staring out; he wouldn't look at me, although he probably knew I was staring at him. He just looked straight out. I looked over to try to figure out what he was looking at, but I couldn't. He had a painful look on his face, also. I felt sorry for the man, even though I didn't know anything about him. He just screamed 'pitiful'. Then again, who am I to say what is pitiful or not. A middle-aged woman zoomed across the street in her blue mini-van. She looked as if she had 2.5 children, a husband, and a happy house with a green lawn and a white picket fence. I wondered if she has ever stopped to look around her, to take a walk to a party, to watch the grass die, to watch old men stare at the world. To watch old men stare at the world and *not* say "it is good". Of course not. The only people who ask these questions are thought of as insane by their generation, they don't get looked at as intelligent until they are dead for 20 years. The curse of a questioning mind. I looked up, and breaking the horizon was a shape shadowed by the sun. I could tell that he was male, and had his shirt off (and in his right hand), but I could not tell much else. He walked forward in my direction with a style of walk I had seen many times in my life, the kind of walk that tells you "hey, guess what? you're nothing compared to me." I've seen it many times. In high school, almost all the athletes had this type of walk, with their blanked faces staring directly in front of them, not acknowledging their surroundings. They would look directly down the hall at the horizon lines; just like an actor does when he plays a part on stage. Only, these people were not on stage. They were playing the character that they thought were themselves. They never asked questions, they always thought they HAD the answer. He was getting closer now, and I could tell exactly who it was. His shirt was in his hand, helping him with his "Hey, I'm popular and you're not" walk. He wore no shirt, because he had not an inch of fat anywhere on his body. His skin was a perfect dark tan, with no birthmarks or acne anywhere. I don't think he noticed me yet, because he hadn't looked over at me. He just stared forward. His name was Tim Rowell. Tim Rowell was my best friend in junior high school. We almost lived together. I'd always be over at his house, playing Nintendo, trying to finish that adventure/role playing game. One by One we'd conquer them all, and always fight about which one was better at them. He would try to act tough and cool every once in a while, but deep down I always knew him as a pretty OK guy. He loved to crack jokes, as I did. He was always a clown, even worse than I, and that's pretty bad. He was kicked out of my boy scout troop in the 6th grade, and at that point I quit also. We were the type of friends you'd never expect to change. But change we did. When high school rolled around, we both joined football. We were both second string players; I, a lineman, and him, a defensive back and wide receiver. He also joined wrestling. I never got along with the jock crowd, except for a few of them I had a different set of friends, while he totally clung to them. From that point on he never once again acknowledged me as a human being. The last memory I have of ever communicating with him was the day I quit football Junior Year. He gave me this look, a look that genuinely in his mind said "You're a Pussy." As he got closer, the green sunglasses reflected the sunlight into my eyes, blinding me. I could barely see. He was still built the way he was in high school; about 100 pounds of bones. He had a long scar on his stomach, probably from an operation of one kind or another. Otherwise, he had a nearly perfect form. His hair was slightly teased, to give it that "90210" look. And the sunglasses he wore were meant for a Melrose Place fan. When he was about 5 feet away from me, he looked over at me. He raised his sunglasses in a manner of disbelief, as if he was surprised that I could be the way I am. He gave me this glare, a glare that said "Hey, you're still the dork you always were". He then lowered his sunglasses back onto his face and walked off quickly, bumping me on my shoulder. Now I remember why I don't have any friends anymore. Because they all are like him. ______________________________________________________________________________ News> next ______________________________________________________________________________ misc.writing article 8 of [8,9] (1 unseen) From: shadowtao@hoe.org (Shadow Tao) Subject: the doctor gets roasted!@ Organization: Ultra Super-Duper Conservative Party@!# Lines: 17 The day of 'Tracturpuhl' had arrived. I awoke to chants of "pur-dee, pur-dee", an obvious form of my tribal name. There are numerous gruntings from outside for awhile, and then two Furmur's run into my hut and grab me. They pull me outside and strip me of my clothes. They then bend me over a log while a third shoves a piece of corn into my anus. My screams of pain make them laugh. To my horror, a ewe is brought before me and the chief makes a high caste-to-low caste greeting to one of my captors. They shove me onto the hapless ewe, and prick my back with their spears. I commit an act of cold love to the bleating ewe, much to their delight. They pull me off her and signal for me to bend over as a line of tribesmen forms behind me. I run screaming from the camp, the piece of corn wiggling in my rectum. shadow tao. writer for hoe, member of bedlam -- --- ------------------------------------- --- -- ring the bells that still can ring, forget your perfect offering there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in -- --- ------------------------------------- --- -- ______________________________________________________________________________ News> next ______________________________________________________________________________ misc.writing article 9 of [9,9] (0 unseen) From: murmur@hoe.org (Murmur) Subject: condiments, chapter 27 Organization: pEz Monthly Lines: 32 condiments, chapter 27: guacamole sanchez lived in a rural mexican farming community. this farming community was unusual in that only wild pumpkins were raised. these wild pumpkin farmers took daily siesta, not unlike fellow countrymen. however, sanchez was an insomniac. eventually determining that he could not take his siesta, sanchez decided he would spend his daily siesta time working in his wild pumpkin patch. when for the seventh straight year sanchez won the annual award for pumpkin prolificacy, the other pumpkin farmers started to wonder. they had already begun noticing that sanchez always left the fields last and always returned to the fields first at siesta time. but it would be another four years before someone observed that they'd never actually seen sanchez come or go. the next year someone boldly checked sanchez' bed after siesta time and found it hadn't been slept in. now people were really curious. no one had ever won the pumpkin prolificacy award twelve years in a row until now. then, suddenly, the following autumn, someone blurted out that they didn't think sanchez was taking his siesta! rumours ran rampant. how could anyone skip their siesta? two years later the village mayor approached sanchez. sanchez admitted it'd been at least fifteen years since his last siesta. the community was outraged. suddenly people left and right refused to take siestas, in protest. sanchez was even pushed off his land as hungry, coffee induced pumpkin farmers went berserk. sadly, farmers started falling asleep in the fields, exhausted because they had not been taking their siestas. one day, all of the farmers simultaneously fell asleep in the fields except sanchez, home alone, pushed off his land. a massive hailstorm came and demolished the village, killing all the residents except for sanchez. sanchez, whose insomnia was suddenly and miraculously cured, slept like a baby for weeks. sanchez would go on to set an unheard of record of forty-seven consecutive annual pumpkin prolificacy awards before dying a happy, albeit somewhat lonely old man, from eating a poisonous gourd. moral: sleep is for the weak. pumpkins are for the strong. ______________________________________________________________________________ News> group alt.religion.rudabega %NEWS-I-GRPSET, current newsgroup now alt.religion.rudabega -NEWS-I-GRPINFO, articles [201,202], 2 unseen News> read ______________________________________________________________________________ alt.religion.rudabega article 201 of [201,202] (1 unseen) From: dfx@fc.net (Drunkfux) Subject: Re: ANTI BEEF (Maharaj can kiss my meat eating ass) Organization: MEAT EATING, EARTH KILLING, PUNK R0CK M0THER FUKERZ Lines: 76 > * Meat-eaters have higher blood pressure, are more >hypertensive and violent. Public funds are used for research and >treatment. Everyone is forced to pay the price of violence and >crime. Meat-eaters hurt themselves, their families and others. > > Meat-eaters hurt everyone. > Meat-eaters hurt everyone. > Meat-eaters hurt everyone. AND WE'RE DAMN PROUD OF IT T00, Y0U ST00PID FR00T L00P. After reading Ja-I-have-no-clue's lame ass, crap filled, VEGATUBULZ R PE0PUL T00 message for the 10,000th time in the last month, I was inspired to leave the house and make a dramatic change in my eating habits. As I pulled up to the McDonald's drive-thru and gazed at the death infested menu which was so obviously responsible for breast cancer, arthritis, Erik Estrada, racism, and every tragedy in the last 9,000,000 years, Jai's words really touched me and I had a change of heart. Instead of my usual "Can I have a #3 combo with a coke, please?", I shouted, "Y0 B1TCH! I WANT A FUKN QUADRO-P0UNDER W1TH N0 FUKN VEGETABULZ 0R SH1T THAT GR0WZ 0N TREEZ!" "Ok sir, you wanted a Quarter pounder, just plain, is that correct?" "N0 B1TCH! I ZED I WANTED A FUKN QUADR0-P0UNDER! GET IT R1TE 0R DIE!" "A what pounder?!" "A FUKN QUADR0-P0UNDER!" "Uh.. I don't think we have that. Are you sure you don't mean a quarter pounder?" "N0 I D0N'T MEEN A FUKN MEEZLY AZZ QUARTUR P0UNDER! HERE'Z WHAT I WANT - 2 FUKN D0UBLE QUARTER P0UNDERZ PUT T0GETHER 2 MAKE 1 QUADR0 P0UNDER!" "Ooohhh.. you want *2* double quarter pounders then?" "N0 B1TCH! I WANT 1 FUKN QUADR0 P0UNDER! TAKE THE 2 D0UBLEZ, PUT THEM T0GETHUR AND GIV ME 1 QUADR0! U G0T IT YET BRAINIAK?" "Oh! Ok.. I think we can do that. Would you like cheese on that?" "FUK N0 B1TCH! I WANT 4 H0T SLABZ 0F C0W DETH 0N A BUN WITH N0 FUKING HIPPIE AZZ VEGETABULZ! I ALZ0 D0NT WANT ANY FUKING LAME VEGAN FRIEZ 0R ANY TYPE 0F RECYKULD PAKAGING. N0 KUP, N0 BAG, N0 WRAPPERZ.. PUT THE SHIT 0N THE WIND0W K0UNTER THING AND I WILL TAKE IT. AND TELL JAI T0 G0 FUK A K0K0NUT T00!" "Who?!" "FUK IT & GIMME THAT WHICH IZ THE S0URCE 0F ALL EVIL... N0W!" "Thank you. Please drive to the 2nd window." For the record, I got my fucking Quadro pounder and it r0cked. I am faxing McDonald's tomorrow and demanding that this awesome item be permanently added to every McDonald's menu around the world. I'm a meat eater. I'm hypertensive. I'm violent. And if you get in between me and a plate of animal death, I will fucking kill your pathetic ass and then go kill some trees in order to build a coffin to bury you in. DETH IZ IMMINENT. THE EARTH MUZT DIE. MEAT EATERZ ARE THE MAJ0RITY AND WE'R FUKIN PISSED. GIVE US WHAT WE WANT 0R BE PREPARED T0 FACE THE WRATH. Drunkfux . cDc - Cult Of The Dead Cow . Senior Vice Prez ftp.eff.org : /pub/Publications/CuD/CDC alt.fan.cult-dead-cow ______________________________________________________________________________ News> next ______________________________________________________________________________ alt.religion.rudabega article 202 of [202,202] (0 unseen) From: whisper@gamepower.com (Fr. Timothy S. Whisper) Subject: On Doing It: Translated from The Truth Book (Tales of the We Is) Organization: Tales of the We Is Preservation Society - Translation Team Lines: 136 ON DOING IT ----------- ...translated from The Truth Book (Tales of the We Is)... I bring you greetings from the perch. (Do not trust the speaker!) After reading this sentence, please skip this article and go on to the next one. In fact, please rm your newsreader. Why are you reading this? Why do you want to be in your head? Intellectual stimulation alone breeds impotence and self-ignorance. Why, I learned THAT in kindergarten. Didn't you? But more on that later. You should be doing something else right now. Perhaps your ass would be less sore if you stopped right now. Have you eaten yet? Maybe you should masturbate. To assiste you, I've created ultra-real fantasies to prod your proclivities: xy tug: She's blind, so she can't see how ugly you are! You don't have to ask her if you can have sex with her since you don't know how to ask a girl that question. xx pull: He doesn't have a penis anymore. You've grown one. xyy twist: Please. Stop reading this. Hello to to the few of you who are left (and don't YOU feel foolish now?). I am writing to you, when I should be writing to myself. After all, it is _me_ that I live with the most. Even then, I often live alone. But I am not alone now. For now, you are here with me (but you shouldn't be). For now, I am your jesus; you are my velcro. Are you willing to do more than listen? Can you stomach truth? Can you take action? You probably won't, but you can. You are poised at my teats. Listen to your god and his commandments: I. Thought is corrupt. Don't trust it. II. Emotion is beguiling. Don't trust it, either. III. Trust your metaphorical gut. Since you obviously want to stay in your head, let's talk about this. This means, you shut up and read (Last chance to exit!). To make you feel more comfortable, I'll use the word "we." I wouldn't want you to think I might be talking about YOU, no sir! I. Thought - Some of us are too smart for pants. With all the sick and perverted thoughts I _know_ you have, why on this PLANET would you trust your thought process? Well, I have some news: our minds were not built by IBM. Sure, some thought is a good thing. But too much thought killed the canary. See! Thought made me come up with a stupid cliche to end that last sentence ("Oh, I'll just slip it in. They're pretty stupid anyway!"). See how dangerous it can be? I was afraid I might use a cliche, and there it is. Damn. THOUGHT FEEDS FEAR. This, then, is the heart of this commandment, so live it, flock - Our thoughts create how we feel. Thus, if we don't like how we're feeling, we are free to change what we are thinking! It's as simple as shitting. Out with the old, in with the new (another cliche, "fuck you, thought"). To those of you who THINK your thoughts are immutable (to the stupid, that means "unmovable"), THINK for a second: You say, "Oh, I just can't fool myself." NO! You do all the time. You say, "Oh, that's just how I am"? NO! That's just how you THINK you are. Oops, I've lapsed into youism. I THOUGHT I wasn't going to do that. The point is this - dead canaries suck. II. Emotion - (Note: Some of you show no evidence of this aspect of consciousness. Stay away from me until you get some help.) Emotion is tasty. Joy, fear, anger...yum yum! As one can tell, I love emotion. What may not be so evident is that I love spit too, but I don't want it all over me. [Translator's note: semen, of course, was a different story. See "on Swallowing" in The Truth Book (Tales of the We Is).] I want just enough to keep my mouth working. Too much emotion keeps us from fiddling with those piles of crazy thoughts we collect (See Commandment I if you skipped to here). Emotion is addictive. Let's talk about our warm, wet diapers. Think back. Wasn't it great when we were babies? All we had to do was sit in a sack of slime for a little bit, and our moms would gently rub our asses with delightful oils. Some of us even got used to the rash. WE DELIGHT IN THE RASH! While I like a good ass-rubbing as much as the next spiritual guy, I do need my skin. Take, then, this point: change your diapers - they stink sometimes. III. The Gut - I bet you're thinking of entrails right now. No! Innards are great! But that's not what we're talking about. We're talking about that part of you that is always right. Call it intuition, kids, but it's there. It calls out to you ("hey YOU! Wake UP, shit-for-brains!") It is no friend of instant gratifications, so it's a bore at parties. But life isn't always fun, eh? Life is long term and hard. What better way to live it than to trust what you know is right? It's the voice, that voice of which the prophets speak: "No one shows a tree how to reach the light; No one tells the stars it is night." Hear, then: your gut tames fear and is your birthright. So use it. So says I, the We Is and be all. Of course, most of you are stumps, with long rancid roots that go deep into the dirt. And yes, I DO mean YOU. You say I have misread you? You're not a mere spectator here? Then go do it. [End of translation] --- Fr. Timothy S. Whisper, servant of the misunderstood, is a little teapot (short and stout) who resides in an Eastern United States city. He has dedicated his life to the spreading of the word of the We Is, speaker in The Truth Book (Tales of the We Is). The translation of the selection "on Doing It" has been edited for modern consumption. For spiritual consultations, email $5 to Fr. Whisper c/o mogel@phantom.com. (Giving is spiritual) ______________________________________________________________________________ News> exit % irc mogel server irc.k-rad.net 6667 *** Connecting to port 6667 of server irc.k-rad.net *** Welcome to the Internet Relay Network mogel *** Your host is irc.k-rad.net, running version ircd2.8/dog3-super.pl9 *** Your host is irc.k-rad.net, running version ircd2.8/dog3-super.pl9lad *** This server was created Fri July 12 1995 at 01:33:52 EDT *** @umodes available oiws, channel modes available biklmnopstv *** There are 4881 users and 3844 invisible on 104 servers *** There are 109 operators online *** 4 unknown connection(s) *** 2388 channels have been formed *** This server has 340 clients and 5 servers connected *** - *** - irc.k-rad.net Message of the Day - *** - *** - Welcome to irc.k-rad.net!@#!@ WaReZ for everyone!@# *** - *** - "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment *** - of religion or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; *** - or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or *** - the right of the people peaceably to assemble and to *** - petition the Government for a redress of grievances." *** - *** - WE L0V B0TZ@#!@#@ PUT AS MANY B0TZ 0N HERE AS P0SSIBLE!@##!@ *** - *** mogel (mogel@hoe.org) has joined channel #zines -> *mogel* self, irc quote files are pretty damn stupid. so why are you wasting your time with this? *mogel* 'cause i'm pretty damn stupid too. haha no sysadmin with even half a life is going to give a fuck about what happens on irc. *JSSalo* Hey, you worthless piece of shit.. Just place that fucking channel of yours into your anus. IF I am interested in it, I CAN enter it without YOUR help.. LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU ASSWIPE! hi, i'm tom. i'm from new jersey, i masturbate too much. nice to meet you. *pale* i can never tell what is real in here anymore how about you have a futuristic world where like the irc mafia is the real mafia and the ansiphags rule the commercial industry and hackers are like hardkore biker gangs. that would r0x. ** w4r3z OFFERED. /MSG spiffy XDCC SEND #N for autosend pack #N #1 ten pack of tacos [0kb, 1 file] #2 6 pack of tacos [0kb, 1 file] #3 1 taco [0kb, 1 file] #4 a large coke [0kb, 1 file] damn u mogel!!!!1 u stupid!! u r sleeping!!!!! *** raduga has changed the topic on channel #hack to The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: AOL - PRODIGY - CIS - MSN *SenorP* unban me or you are dead <_Minder_> fuck you pal... keep it up and I will have you klined lamer ! THAT'S WHY I SAY HEY MAN, NICE BOT *** carrie (carrie@cascade.net) has joined channel #ansi *carrie* does anybody actually talk about art on #ansi or are they mostly shooting the shit? -> *carrie* neither. they mostly just kiss each other's butts. *mattg* hey man.....u got any ftp sites w pir8 games like mk2 *mattg* hey do ya no how ta make explosives....fireworks *mattg* SHOW ME YOUR A HACKER *mattg* I only want 1 game to this sux :( *mattg* hey maybe u could help me....u know where i could get MK2 complete *mattg* that's all i want man *mattg* after i get it...i'm quiting internet this is fraggin' hilarious.. it's like a poorly orchestrated drunken streetfight on IRC.. DONUT FUCK WITH MY EMMENSE SCRIPTING POWERS I AM THE TRUE MODEM WARRIOR my PENIS loves me when i read stuff from alt.sex.stories to it outloud elite and sweet, baby, wooh wooh touch my peeps!! Man, who isn't an over-obsessive "usenet" person?! gosh. I could read alt.mcdonalds all day. and in fact, i do. it's been fun talking to all my modem pals, but i gotta go read a.s.s. and masturbate. later!! *madrigal* it is the very end for you. *madrigal* unban me or suffer it worse. When I first renewed my access on Swamp Rat's system it asked if I imagined myself to be elite... I said I was VERY elite!@ I said "But mom, they worship a dead cow! Its like in India, but better. She said "oh that's ok..I didnt mean they were sickening, I just mean i get bored because they make alot of inside joke/abstract-type references to stuff no one else knows what they are talking about...but I really like the slaughter of animals and others better!" then my mom booted up 'How to Kill Your Teacher' by Neon Knights mom is pretty elite "Now son, you know you have to put special thanks to me in your next text file, or its no desert for you....." *** y (y@millenium.texas.net) has joined channel #hack Losers. *** y has left channel #hack I WANNA D0 EVERYTHING. I WANNA FUCK EVERY KITCHEN APPLIANCE IN THE WORLD. I WANNA WANNA DO SOMETHING THAT MAKES M0NEY! I WANNA USE EVERY EFFECT ON MY COMPUTER!##!# I WANNA SYTHESIZE FAKE MUSIK! I AM THE ONE THAT COURIERS YOUR WAREZ. I WANNA LOOP THE SAME TWO CHORDS MORE THAN EVERY ELSE$@&$%&@$% I AM THE ONE THAT TRADEZ Y0U K0DEZ. I AM THE 0NE THAT ACTZ REAL TUFF. I AM Y0UR MIZTER WAREZFUCT. I AM THE ONE WHO DELIVERZ IT 0DAYZ!!## I WANNA FUCK YOUR SHAREWARE BODY AND TURN IT ELITE!$#@!$$! B0W D0WN BEFORE THE ONE YOU PHEAR, YOUR G0ING TO GET N0 0-DAY! HEAD LIKE WARE, BLACK LIKE PH0NE BILL, I'D RATHER GO OUTSIDE, THEN GIVE YOU A K0DE. I WANNA SET UP AN 800 FOR YOU LIKE AN ANIMAL!$!$$! I WANNA COURIER YOU FROM THE INSIDE. I BRING YOU CLOSER TO 57600$@@$@$ YOU CAN HAVE YOUR D00DLEB0yZ. YOU KaN HAVE Y0UR H4CKERZ AND PHREAKZ, Y0U KAN HAVE Y0U K-RAD P0RN. I WANNA UPL0AD Y0U LIKE AN ANIMAL!@#!@1 I WANNA K0URIER Y0U FROM THE INSIDE!@# Y0U BRING ME KL0ZER T0 WAREZ! don't make fun of NiN it rulz. Brackish Boy is laughing out loud! NIN is full of WaReZ d00dz. NNNNNNoooooooooo!!!!!!!! Trent is a warez dood, too. WAREZ SUCK! Trent was quoted as saying "0-day or no day!" Whenever I log on to a MBBS board... I see him on. No bite your tongue!!!! I think Trent draws Ansi t0o. There, are like.. 2357634 Trents.. "Trent" "Reznor" "NIN" "Trent Reznor" they're always on boards. how dare you say that in my presence!!! NOO * cyber is sobbing piteously! no!!! Isn't he in Acid or something? Trent^ACiD was on IRC. He was a co-founder. i am going to worship to statue of trent in my living room and maybe everything will be better!!! *** Signoff cyber (cry!) if you had one orinigal quote to tell the world before you die, what would it be? mogel: "I am the filth, I am the cum, I am the vomit" mogel "can yew pass the cheeze-wiz?" i wood say "l0nG l1v3 #h4ck ()@#*$)(*@#$)(* ey3 nuB 1t s0..." naaa before the FBI busts me i will says "im not a phreak im a communication Hobbyist." after all, yew must be polictaly correct in dis world I WED SAY...."DEBBIE GIBSON IS GOD" 85% of #hack women cant be wrong, choose y. IM NOT LAME! im ELITE Challanged. (c) 1995 Kamakize Communations Ltd. front desk, can I get a "care check" in aisle #hack please? drink fast or don't. m0gel: warez *Lobo* i couldnt get kicked off of #jesus last night. maybe i should have said: Jesus sucks. instead of JESUS IS COMING better look busy H3Y GUYZ I WENT ON A DATE LEMME TELL YA HOW IT WENT WELL FIRST I MADE UP THIS STORY THEN I TYPED 'IRC' THEN I TYPED '/JOIN #HACK' THEN I BULLSHITTED FOR ABOUT 3 MINUTES *kokey* I'm in deep need of the squeaky 800#. *kokey* oh man, I need it real hard, pleaz. *kokey* I greeted you. n stuff. and erm, liked you. *kokey* you know, for me to like a person takes a lot. *kokey* I donut do warez, ewe should gn0. *kokey* I gno, I'm relying purely on someone who would feel for me. *kokey* I am like begging. YES #HACK for only $19.95 - BUT Wait if you order now we will throw in #phreak and #2600 at no xtra charge - but wait if yew order now we will give you a pair of blueblockers for PHREE!! *jamesy* hey, check out this t-file i just did. i was bored. very bored. like, really really bored. *** DCC SEND (bang.blam.zam.wack.boom.txt 30117) request received from jamesy *** DCC GET connection with jamesy[204.193.142.252,2220] established *** DCC GET: bang.blam.zam.wack.boom.txt from jamesy completed 7.898 kb/sec good name.. mo"gel (pronounced murrgel...) MOOGHOUL. you got fuckin bit by the cow and now you're this undead sob. m0egUll FREAK out. *** Signoff mogel (phear!@#) % ls Mail News bin kiddieporn94.gif gweeds-ass.gif eff.txt bang.blam.zam.wack.boom.txt % cat bang.blam.zam.wack.boom.txt [-----] "e'zine adventures" By, James Hetfield 1. "To the people that think there is life beyond BBSing... You're wrong." -Acid Warlock 2. The party was as exciting as watching mold grow. The same people, the same inside jokes, the same mannerisms, the same 'acquaintances'. The same people bitching about the same other people. Nothing new, to say the least. I must have turned down the wrong street, because I found myself walking down a busier street with a lot of cars flying by. I laughed at a hotel I passed, "The Suburban Hotel"; it must be for teenagers to go screw their respective others at. At least they didn't charge rates by the hour. After walking a little longer, I found myself in a little mini-mall, looking into a closed store. It was a used software store. I saw a copy of "Ultima IV" inside, a game I had been searching for. I'd have to remember how to get back here tomorrow to buy it. I walked around the store, to see if I could find anywhere that looked familiar, and I found myself in an old alleyway. It was getting dark, and the lamps on the roofs of the buildings were pouring an orange light on me. All along the buildings in this alley were gas-meters, and garbage cans filled to the brim with trash bags. I walked down the alley a little while, watching for anyone around me. I was beginning to get a little paranoid. Then, over on my left, one of the buildings had a large, grey door that was cracked open. Scribbled onto the door in some kind of acrylic paint were the words: "3sC4p3@!#@@#!@# 3nt3r 4t y0uR 0W/\/ r1s/!@#@#!!@#". Even my name is in another language now. "Do you know anywhere that I can get some help?" I asked the guy. "What kind of help?" He asked me. "Well... HELP help." I told him. "?" he screamed. Suddenly a hologram picture of a large monster appeared. It was obvious that it wasn't real, but it still was large and menacing looking. A large voice boomed through the room; "ANSi by Mr. Bones, UNiON." "What does that mean?" I whine at the man. I was beginning to lose patience, and my pants were beginning to chaff me because of my little problems of earlier. "Look closely at the ANSi", he told me. I saw some words there, post, read, list, and so on, but nothing about where the nearest bathroom was, nothing about getting washed up, and certainly nothing about how to get OUT of this place. "But how do I get OUT of this place?" I was beginning to lose my precious sanity by the second. "Oh, that's simple. You say SLASH G.." And with that, the man suddenly disappeared. I sat down, confused, nervous, worried. "SLASH G", I yelled, but nothing happened. "SLASH G SLASH B SLASH GEE BLASH GEEE MASH GEE". Nothing. The man opened a door and came back in. "Oops." he said. "It didn't work." I groaned. "hmm. let's see you do it." The man said. "SLASH GEE" I screamed. The man looked puzzled. "Well, looks like you're stuck here. By the way, my name is Ninja-Man Bob. Nice to meet you." He said, and extended his hand, which I shook. "It looks like you've had an accident there, boy." He smirked. "You better go into the personal room and clean that up." "The what?" "The personal room. You know. Over there." I didn't move, and he pushed me towards a door. I went inside, and looking around, saw what looked EXACTLY like my bedroom at home! The walls had brick paneling on them, and there was a motionless computer in the corner of the room. Red Velvet curtains were on the window. I looked out the window, but to my dismay, there was nothing out there except blackness. Not even a street light or anything visible. I tried to turn on my computer, but nothing happened. After changing clothes and cleaning up a bit, I went back out of my room, and Ninja-Man Bob was still there, apparently waiting for me. "By the way, kid, do you have any violent, bloody GIFS?" He asked me, with a little drool coming off the corners of his lips. "Not to my knowledge..." I said to him, and he looked very disgruntled by that answer. "But if I see any of these Jiff things I'll let you know." I told him. He seemed a little more content with that answer. "Hmm. You know what I would do if I was you? I'd go see mogel. he knows a lot about weird shit like this. Man... can't SLASH G..." And with that, he disappeared. 4. I decided my only choice was to explore and see what I could find. Maybe if I look long enough, I could find this mogile person. I searched the rooms of this violence-in-a-bottle, but nothing really exciting was there. One room was gigantic, with machinery and books and weapons piled up to the ceiling. I tried to take an uzi, but a booming voice screamed "YOU DO NOT HAVE ACCESS TO DOWNLOAD THAT FILE" and the gun shocked me as I touched it. Another room I entered was a giant hallway, with wallpaper on the walls, the floor, and the ceiling. The wallpaper had scribblings all over it. Things like "I hurt inside." and "I think, therefore I am co-dependant" were some of the ramblings. Finally, I came to a large iron door. Opening it, I found a huge silvery bridge in the air climbing into the horizon. I put a foot down on it, and it felt like I was walking on a cloud. People were zooming across bridges like this one at the speed of sound. Rays of light were flying by me as I walked down the bridge. There were bridges above me and below me as well, traveling in all directions. Finally, after walking for about 30 minutes, I came to a large building with greek pillars. Climbing the steps, I entered the building, and, sitting at a table, were about 10 people, all hitting buttons on their belt buckles. They were all wincing in pain. 5. "STOP THAT!" one of them yelled. "Who just came in?" Another person said loudly. They all stared at me. "Who are you?" "... 300 baud? that's pathetic." "the warez on the bus go round and round.." "Hi. I'm..." I said as I looked down at my name tag again. "James. James Hetfield." "I'm Seastone." one of them said. "I'm Odysseus." Another one said. "So, anyone looking for that silver keycard? I've got one. I'll.. upload it to you!" "heh." "the warez on the bus go round and round.." Then, behind me, someone else came in. "Who just came in?" "Whoops." "Is that a chyck?" "the warez on the bus go round and round.." "Who gave you the number, whoops?" "A chyck is in here?" "I have my tongue up your butt, whoops..." "Great." said whoops. "So who is in here?" "Edicius." "I thought you were Odysseus." I said. "I changed my mind." Edicius retorted. "Well, you all know why you're here." one voice boomed over the rest. "We'll skip order #1: paper or plastic? and go directly to order number two. Our world is being threatened, friends. It used to be that zines were used for the transportation of knowledge and insight, for innovation and ingenuity. But today, this age-old trading of t-files is being destroyed. Pip the Angry Youth is threatening our way of life by distributing anti-zine propaganda. Worse yet, he runs a zine that only consists of horrible poetry. And get this - the population actually seems to LIKE it. My theory is that Pip has gotten ahold of some kind of new technology, to somehow throw sublimital messages into their zine. Because, honesty, there is NO WAY anyone in their right minds would LIKE Going Ape Shit Press, this text file group. So, something must be done. I open up the topic to the floor for discussion." "Let's kill him!" "Too messy." "Let's flash him!" "Let's steal his fruits and vegetables...!" Whoops cries out. Everyone stared at whoops. Whoops blushed. Soon afterwards, they all started talking at once, and started pressing those buttons on their belts again, and high shrieking noises went through my mind as they did this. I couldn't handle the noise any longer. I ran out the back door. 6. (Enter deep, meaningful, post-structual nonsense here) Some people say dogs act just like their families. My dog sits at the window all day, staring out. Wishing he could be outside. When he gets to go outside, he is very happy. He runs around and plays and chases rabbits. Then he has to come back inside, where he runs around a little bit and sits by the window, to stare out for the rest of the day. He is trapped inside of a world that he does not belong in; he belongs outside, hunting, eating, frolicking. Yet he stays hopeful, knowing that he'll sometime soon be outside again, to hear the birds, to feel the wind. 7. I roamed around over the bridges for what seemed to be a few hours, but all the doors I found were locked, or required access codes and "new user passwords" I didn't know of. I felt like I was inside the atm world of hell. Retracing my steps, I went back to the conferance, to see if anyone there might be able to help me out. Getting close to the building, I heard a loud, continuous tone booming from inside the meeting hall. When I got in, I saw a scene of carnage too expensive to dramatize in a horror movie. The bodies of the people had their instestines splattered around the room. The heads of the victims were all severed from their bodies, and put in a circle on the table, all staring at each other. The loud tone was coming from one of the bodies, that was hunched over a telephone of some sort. For some reason, I had a strong feeling that I should not be there at that moment. I looked around, and in the middle of the cicle of heads I found a small note. it read: ~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~ Frosty the 'Ho man Frosty the 'Ho man Don't need no welfare check With his big cigar And a cadilliac car And Fort Knox around his neck Frosty the 'Ho man Put a bitch on every block First he found them dates Then he set the rates 4o bucks she'll suck 'yo cock There was a bit of trouble When those college boys came 'round They tried to give ol' Frosty shit so he had to lay him down-POW! Frosty the 'Ho man Is the pimp's pimp so they say Making cold-hard cash Peddling hot street gash It's like christmas every day! -counterpoint (GASP) ~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~ At that moment, a man dressed all in black entered. He had a long black trenchcoat on over his black jeans and black T-shirt. He flashed me a broad smile. Then, holding his trenchcoat, he flashed me in a different way. As he opened his trenchcoat, a giant creature sprang from inside of him at me. It was black, and looked a lot like the pictures of the devil you are shown as a kid, only without the horns. The demon-like form opened its mouth wide and engulfed my entire body. By this point, I was screaming like a little girl. I think I wet myself. All around me were spinning letters and numbers and symbols...and loud beeping was ringing through my brain, neverending... 8. I couldn't tell if I had been knocked out or not. The next thing I remember is opening my eyes to see strange shapes flying all around me. I would walk around and slam into walls, not seeing them. All I saw were symbols racing about. I felt around for that box on my belt, and when I found it, I rapped on it a couple of times. That didn't help much, it just hurt rather badly. Then, I flipped a few switches. When I hit a third one, everything went black. And when I flipped it back on, I could see everything normally again. The wonders of modern technology. I was still in the meeting hall, and everything looked as it had before. The man in all black had disappeared. I sat down to rest for a moment... I may have fallen asleep, or I just closed my eyes for a moment, I couldn't tell which. I was roused by a loud screech for help echoing through the halls. It was a painful cry, one that sounded like a child putting all his energy into the yell. I got up and went outside to see what was going on. Two men were throwing around a kid, pushing him in between themselves. they were having a joyful time doing it. The kid was obviously very scared. Both the men were dressed in black trenchcoats. I wasn't sure what to do. I knew that these guys probably had big monsters under their coats as well, and would probably knock me out as the other one had. Yet, I had this strong urge to take my stand as the protagonist of this story. Oh, decisions, decisions. "Leave the child alone." I boldly commanded. The two men looked at me, and smiled an evil grin in my direction. "Hey boys, we've got a 1200 bpser on our hands." one of them said. They both laughed. After he said this, from every nitch and corner came out guys dressed in black. I counted about 20 of them total. I think I wet myself. They were all approaching me, all smiling, all walking up to me. They held onto their trenchcoats, waiting to have talk_daemons spring out at the move of a hand. Needless to say, I felt a bit nervous. 9. I did the only thing a respectable young adult would do in a situation like this. I ran for my life. They were all screaming and running behind me, but I think all their hardware on their bodies slowed them down... until I saw a few of them press a button on their belts. They suddenly were moving ten times faster than me! There was no chance I was going to outrun these guys. I turned around, took in a deep breath, and charged them. I ran directly into one of them, sending him flying to the ground (with me on top of him). They surrounded me and picked me up by all fours. By the way they were carrying me, I thought they were going to rip me limb from limb. They were spinning me around and throwing me across the alley we were in, then running and picking me up, and throwing me again. Lots of fun for them, but it was giving me quite a backache. "All right, enough is enough. Let's finish him off." one of the larger ones said. Most of them pulled out screwdrivers, and were generally looking quite menacing to me. I think they were ready to take me apart piece by piece, to dissect me alive. I wet myself. "Your bones got a little machine..." Guitar riffs filled the air. The trenchcoat guys, stunned, looked around confused. It gave me time to grab a screwdriver from one of them and look like I'm defending myself with it. From behind one of the trenchcoat bearers, a man appeared, grabbed him, and broke his neck. "Fucking poseur haqr freaks." he grunted. I stabbed one of the trenchcoat men in the back, and he yipped out in pain. "Hey.. what'd you do THAT for?" he whined, and ran off. Maybe these guys weren't as ruthless as I thought. By this time, the strange man dressed in sliced jeans and a T-shirt with a fat bald guy with a crown on top of his head had taken out a large cleaver and was slicing up the coated men one by one. They surrounded him, but he beat them off by kicking them and pushing them away. In a few minutes the ground was layered with black trenchcoats, blood, and plenty of bodies. The strange man yawned. "Uhm... thanx..." I said to him. "You better take one of those trenchcoats... it will protect you from those fucking haqr idiots... they won't be able to flash you anymore." "All right.. thanks.." I said, as I grabbed one of the less bloody ones and put it on. It felt disgustingly sweaty and warm. "Well, glad to help. I'm outta here, forever now.." "WAIT... where are you going?" "I'm going to go get a life. The scene here just plain sucks as of late." "Who are you?" "I'm Black Francis...But you can call me frannie. Everyone else and their mother does." "Who were those guys?" "Them... they're hackers. They're part of the reason the scene is the shit it is. They run around, pretending they know what they're doing, when all they do is run around saying 'I'm a better hacker than you!!!'. Half of them couldn't hack their way out of a paper bag. Of course, I could. Don't give me that look. Want me to prove it?" "No.. that's ok. I believe you. So... Any hot chycks around here?" Frannie stared at me. "Ok, nevermind... do you know anything about a guy named GASP? or a guy named Mohgull?" "GASP isn't a guy, it's a shitty zine that pretends its as good as the rest, when all it really is is horrible poetry. Mojile? You must mean mogel. He's a good friend of mine, why?" "I was told I should talk to him." "Oh. Well too bad. He is in hiding because a lot of people want him dead. So he won't be around to talk to for quite a while." "Oh. That sucks." "Yeah, people want me dead too, but fuck them... I'll fight the punks until my last dying day. Stupid fucks. Ok, well, I guess I can trust you... I'll show you where Mogel is... but then that's my LAST fucking appearance in this shitty story, got it? I'm OUTTA here after that." "Yeah, of course.." "Before all that, though, we need to get you a new modem. 1200 baud is not going to do. Follow me." Frannie led me to a large store that said "MODEMZ FOR SALE!@#!@#!@#" on the head of the building. We walked in, Frannie grabbed a large 28.8 and beat the storekeeper to a bloody pulp with it. Then he handed it to me. "Time to ride first class." He said and smiled. I attached the thing onto my belt, discarding the 1200 baud modem I had previously had on. I set the gague to v.FAST. I walked around a little, to try it out. It felt good, I was almost as light as air in this thing. I nodded to Frannie and we left. "Jamesy, you don't know how good it will be to get back into the real world. I've been rotting away in here way too fucking long. The first thing I'm going to do when I get out is get laid. 5 orgasms in one night. That's my plan. Then, after that, I'm going to find the members of my band and we're going to produce a demo tape. Two demo tapes. And we're good, too. We might go pro. It's gonna fucking kick ass." "Well, here we are. Mogel's sweet abode." The door was cracked open, so we went inside. 10. "Oh Fuck. Don't tell me I'm going to have to stay here for another fucking section of this story." Frannie whined. He had picked up a note off of the living room table, read it, whined, and handed it to me: ___________________________________________________________________ | | | We have m0g3l pr1s0n3r@#!!@#!@#!@#!@#@#!!@# | | were making him sign a paper that says h03 sux@#!!@#!@#!@# | | phear pip!@@#!!@#!@#@#!!@#!@# | |___________________________________________________________________| "God fucking damnit. God damn fucking damnit. Shit fucking damnit. I don't want to be here anymore. Can you handle this without me? I REALLY want go get laid..." "Sorry... I'm gonna need some help..." I asked him as nicely as I could. "Fine. Shit. Fucking mogel. always getting himself fucked up. Doesn't he understand I have fucking problems too? Jesus Christ." "... Where can we find him now? He could be anywhere.." "Naw. The GASP people aren't creative for shit. Like every other adventure story, he's being held at the GASP headquarters. They're expecting us to go rescue him... ... which we will. I fucking hate GASP." "Will we be able to stop them?" "I don't know.. they're pretty powerful... but, then again, they're also pretty stupid... so we'll figure something out. We'll also have the pEz posse on our side." "The pEz posse?" "Yeah, all the pEz members... along with we can get all the hoe members... then we'll have an army. They'll never be able to stop us then." "Oh. Ok. Sounds good to me." "But then again, rumor has it that pip has developed a new kind of weapon, it's called the drooler... it's a giant robot that runs around kicking people so hard their bodies are knocked inside out." "That must hurt." "You know it. But hey, what do we have to lose, we're the heroes of this story, we CAN'T lose, remember?" "Well, remember that this is the 90s, the age of nihilism revitalized." I mentioned. "Fuck you. Like I wanted to hear that. Stupid Fuck. I bet you listen to NiN." he retorted. Frannie went into a large room with a bookcase and a large red phone. He picked up the red phone, pressed a button, said something like "We need you, get your sorry asses over here." and hung up. Then, he took a statue of Bill Gates, and threw it against the wall. Somehow this triggered a device that made the staircase move, revealing two poles going downward. I always was bad at sliding down poles when I was little, so I landed on my ass. When I got up, I saw we were in a large underground cave. "The hoe cave.", Frannie told me, "And this... is the h0em0bile." It was a Powerwheels, and red. I hopped in Frannie's lap, and he pedalled us toward the GASP hideout... 11. "God fucking bitch cunt. Flat tire." Black Francis was right. Somehow, the big plastic red tire in the front had gone flat. It looked like we were going to have to walk the rest of the way to the GASP headquarters. "The GASP headquarters is in that airport terminal over there.. it'll only be a few minutes until we get in. They hide in the broom closet. That's where the GASP poetry comes from, writing in the dark. They usually can't read it after they've put it down on paper, so they just rewrite it with whatever words seem to look like the lines scribbled down." We entered the terminal, and I already had a fishy feeling that we were in for some trouble. Perhaps it was the trout sloshing around in my pants. "Care for a flower? Are you interested in learning about the brotherhood of Hari Krishna?" Black Francis pushed the man aside, and kept on walking. "Care for a flower? We would like to tell you about Jehovah and his.." Black Francis took the man by his hair and punched his lights out. "Care for a demo tape? Its a fukkun new punk band, called 'I'm a female choda"..." Black Francis whipped out his cleaver and sliced the punk into many suggested serving sizes. After wiping off his cleaver, he pointed to a door. "That's it. That's their hideout." I was amazed. "But... frannie... see that picture? That's the woman's washroom." "It's just a facade. Have you seen any women go in there?" He's right. I hadn't. A woman walked into the bathroom. "She's a decoy. Come on, before they notice us.." Frannie whispered to me as we slowly snuck into the room. Went we got in, we heard shrieks and screams. I never realized purses could be so damn painful to be hit with. "All right, so I was wrong. That's got to be it!" He pointed towards a door that said "EMPLOYEES ONLY". We tried to open it, but it was locked. "Hmm. I know. We must need the skull keys!" "The.. what?" I asked. "The Skull keys! haven't you ever played ultima 5?" "OH. the skull keys. All right, where do we get them?" "Some guy in Serpent's Hold sells them to you." "Oh. We're in New York, aren't we?" "I think so." We stood there, thinking out ourselves a plan of action, but nothing came to mind. Luckily, we heard the door unlock and it opened to slam into Frannie's face, knocking him backwards. Out walked a small man, wearing a nine inch nails shirt and a pair of black leather pants. Thousands of young kids mauled him, asking him for autographs and his sex. "That's him!" Black Francis yelled to me through the crowd that was forming. "Who? Trent Reznor?" I screamed back. "Fucking dick! it's Pip! Pip the angry youth! get him!" Frannie screamed to me. I charged Pip and knocked him to the floor. He squealed for his mother. I had him pinned down as frannie came over with his cleaver and brought it up to his throat. The crowd was amazed and quite mad at us, but wasn't trying to stop us. "So, you stupid god damn pussy cock dick? You gonna tell us what's going on or are we going to have to just cut yer head off?". Black Francis was sounding more like a pirate every time he spoke. He was obviously having fun with this situation. "Ok! Ok! I'll tell you anything you want to know! Just don't hurt me!!!!" pip whined out. "What have you done with mogel?" Frannie demanded. I noticed how cute Black Francis was when he was mad. "I don't know! I don't know! they won't tell me!" "What do you MEAN, they won't tell you? You're the GASP prez!" "Yes, but this isn't my doing! GASP is being controlled by a higher group!" "What? What Group?" I demanded, trying to act as forceful as frannie. "I don't know, even that I don't know... all I know is that it has something to do with grape nuts..." Grape Nuts? We were certainly lost now. How could Grape Nuts have anything to do with anything? "Grape Nuts?" Frannie said. "Ahh! I know!" Frannie always knows. That's why he's a main character in this story. "Grape Nuts is the headquarters for all of M0rpheus' evil doings!" "Morphiousos? who is that?" I asked politely. "Morpheus is an evil hax0r! We must stop him!" Frannie screamed. "How?" I asked. "Oh. I don't know." Frannie said. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the ceiling crashed in. Giant robots came flying down, shouting "AND WE'RE ALL LIKE BUGS" over and over. They had their eyes on us. 12. We didn't think we had anywhere to turn. It looked very bleak for us. The robots were closing in, and we had nowhere to turn. "Well, how are you gonna get us out of THIS ONE?" I asked Frannie. "I can't. I quit." Frannie said angstfully, and disappeared from existence. Pip laughed and ran away to go write poetry in California. Morpheus is now a congressman, fighting for family values. And me, well, the robots closed in on me and are still here today, following me everywhere I go, making sure I don't have my own thoughts and making sure they annoy me with every step I make. If I do anything they don't like, they kick me. And it hurts. Just for writing this damn file, I have bruises all over my lower body. Mogel was never found. Some say he died. Others say he started up a new group with Black Francis that never became that popular. I don't know, because the robots don't let me find things like that out. So life goes on, and as I sit here finishing up this tale of our favorite scene's armageddon, just remember my story anytime you want to write a bad essay about how much the scene sucks, and remember that we already know that already, so you can shut the fuck up. Thank you, and god bless you. -eof [-----] % Message from demonseed@monster.truck.net at 17:19 ... talk: connection requested by demonseed@monster.truck.net. talk: respond with: talk demonseed@monster.truck.net % talk demonseed@monster.truck.net ______________________________________________________________________________ [Connection Established] Why Hello there, Mogel. > my god. it's you! demonseed! you're real! i thought you were just a figment of swamp ratte' imagination! No, Mogel. You're wrong. DEAD WRONG. > nO! demonseed!@ i've been good! i'm MOGEL! people PHEAR me! you _can't_ be coming to kill me! Fortunatly for you Mogel, I've simply come here to deliver a message to you. I'm not here to kill you...yet. I've been watching you, Mogel. I've been laughing at how hard you try to talk to cDc people. The almight t-file is *bigger* than cDc by a thousand times. I mean look at this file here! Even this conversation is a rip off cDc #200. Listen, you've tried a noble effort with HoE, and it failed. This next attempt will be your fate. I'll be keeping a close watch on you, Mogel. If you screw up on this next 'zine, I won't be so merciful. You know what happened to Studmuffin of VaS right? > I thought he disappeared and like ODed or something. Oh, it looked oh-so-innocent. "He was just high-off-his-ass and ran in front of a passing monster truck in the middle of his lawn," they said. They didn't even realize it was me. God, I love morons. > You mean YOU killed VaS? Yes, and if you fuck up this next time, you'll suffer a similar fate. Those cDc boys play dirty, so it's beat 'em or DEATH. If you don't prove yourself this next time, I'll bring your crushed head on a stick to the next HoHoCon. "Did you see Mogel's head?!" all the warez geeks will say. DO YOU WANT THAT? > N0@!# never!@# I'll show you@!# Good. Head my warning. Gather up as many people that phear you as possible, and go forward with eliteness. You've got a lot of potential, Moggie. Don't let me down. And Just to make sure that you follow through, I think I'll be rm-ing HOE.ORG. I hope you don't mind. Take care, Mogel. Remember - Every move you make, I'll be there. _____ 6/ ^..^ \_____(oo) WW WW \ oink you! yr6t^YR-@YHRT&**Yhgh ELQPP#@ edsr fdg ghdfgh $E)@_RF:RF f DFG \df g gbnGFHFG \F LEFL dv.f dfg ge;4SETEgf oSC adfg Connection closed by foreign host. |=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=| | Be There for the next level. TacoLand! (215)750-0392. Coming Soon. | |=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=| Copyright (c) 1995 HoE Publications. All rights Reserved. #90 --> 07/25/95 Byebye.