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          ttt   ttt   ttt       ttttttt  ttttt                           t
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                                11         11111
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                            111111111      11111 



				 January 1993


    ----------------------------------------------------------------------
                      The Print-Almost-Everything Fanzine
         for Public Access Remote Bulletin Board Systems of Australia
    ----------------------------------------------------------------------







          FOUNDERS................................... Doc
                                                      Avalon


          CHIEF EDITOR............................... Inka Princess


          PROOF READERS.............................. Ghost Who Walks
                                                      Lachlan Maher
                                                      Joseph Elkhorne


          FORMATTER.................................. Doc


          ARTWORK.................................... Elkor Cornelius
                                                      Captain Kirk
                                                 (although he doesn't know)
                                                      Nikolai Kingsley


          THIS ISSUE'S CONTRIBUTORS.................. Inka Princess
                                                      Dave Seikel
                                                      Bungalow Hermit
                                                      Tikva
                                                      Doc
                                                      Nikolai Kingsley




    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-



                                   CONTENTS


                   1.  Stir Trek 4
		   2.  A Dictionary For The Novice Bulletin Board User
		   3.  Horror-scopes
		   4.  MacChucks!
		   5.  Understanding Computer Technology
		   6.  How To Be Green
		   7.  Santa Exposed!
		   8.  Awardz
		   9.  Rattitorial.



    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-





    New Wave liked his job as a ticket collector, bouncer, and  all-purpose
    law  enforcer  for the Cawfeeld Nightspot* on Space-Port  Alfalpha.  He
    especially liked beating up people who tried to enter with sneakers on.

    * Readers are informed that no correlation was intended whatsoever with
    the  Caulfield  Nightspot near the Caulfield Hotel on the planet Earth,
    which  incidentally also has a rather large, brutish bouncer who  likes
    beating up anything wearing sneakers.



    A   figure  was approaching; making its  way down  the steamy,  grime-
    ridden  staircase  from the busy street above. New Wave picked  up  his
    handy bludgeon, and stood across the doorway in his usual style.

    The  footsteps stopped. In front of New Wave stood a  tall  dark-haired
    girl,  wearing  a  bright  red  space-suit  decorated with  teddy-bears.
    In addition, a rather large, nasty phasor was slung around her hips.

    "Yer  nit dinkin' of goin' in dere, arr ya girlie?", hissed  New  Wave,
    sensing it was one of those lovely occasions when he would have to  get
    violent again.

    After all, she was wearing regulation Star Fleet sneakers.

    Without  a  moments hesitation, the dark-haired girl  whipped  out  her
    phasor,  and shot a bolt into the startled New Wave. He  crumpled  down
    and forward, groaning.

    For a moment, the world paused in shock.

    "You're lucky it was on stun."  she informed the writhing figure on the
    ground.

    Replacing  the phasor into the holster, Star  Fleet Commander  Brigitte
    entered the rowdy* night-club.

    * See - I told you there was no correlation.




                         ____________________________




      Ding

                                     Ping


                                                                 Dong


    Space.


    The Final Frontier.


    These are the voyages of the U.S.S.Egoprise,

    Her unceasing mission: to boldly go where no man (or woman, or Erk) has
    gone  before; to hassle all high profile bulletin board users; to  rip-
    off  every sci-fi television series since 1960; and to seek new  depths
    in amateur, D-grade humour.




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     #####    ##    ####  ## ##      ##   ## ##  #####  ##  ##         ##  



              The Search For Brigitte (and other minor sub-plots)


                           by Inka Princess and Doc


    .                   ..                                .           .
                   .
                  ___                ________________________________.
    ___________.+===-+.____________  #  O\\]] ] ] ] ] ] ] D#########/
    \_..._____   .....   _____.. ||   `~~~~##========== ~~~~~~~====
              ~`~~|_|~~~|#.....\.            /    |==
      .                  \   .. .\.        /  _ / '                    ..
                 ..        \   ____\.    /   //
            ..               |: -----\__|_./_________
     .                     /.~......o      ........./\          .
                          ):: ..         ...    . ./__' .         .
                           `\\.  oooo        ___'
                               ~_____----""~
                                                         .
           ..       .             .


             starring various bulletin board users in cameo roles


    As   you  may  recall  from  our  last  episode,  Doctor  McCoy   (Doc)
    successfully escaped from Lachy's Prison Planet. However, his plans  to
    regain  World Dominance were short lived - the shuttle he was  escaping
    in  was  raided by the three teenage space pirates. Yes,  the  infamous
    Super Boy, Handyman and Mr. Jordan.

    The space pirates had concocted an evil plan - to extract the knowledge
    of  Ultimate  Dominance  from the brain of Doc,  and  thus  obtain  the
    ultimate power for themselves. Not surprisingly, this failed dismally.

    Mr  Jordan,  fearing the other two pirates were plotting  against  her,
    took them hostage and proceeded to the planet Earth.

    Meanwhile,  the crew of the U.S.S.Egoprise were alerted to the news  of
    the  escaping  Doctor McCoy. Doc's deserted shuttle  was  found.  While
    searching  the  abandoned craft, Nurse Chapel located a vital  clue:  a
    fragment  from  Mr. Jordan's  leg plaster. Soon Kirk and the gang  were
    hot on the trail of the pirates.

    Back  on  Earth, Doc was able to locate the  religiously  insignificant
    lost  Temple  Of  Doccism. Inside, the sacred  Tablets  of  Elkor  were
    uncovered,  which  held  the  secret of  Ultimate Dominance. But before
    Doc  could interpret them, Captain Kirk and the Stir Trek gang  arrived
    on  the scene, revealing themselves to be Teenage Mutant Ninja  Turtles
    in disguise. The three pirates escaped, pursued by the Turtles. Doc was
    finally  left  alone, to clean up the rubble of his ruined  temple  and
    crumbling religion.

    Meanwhile,  Star  Fleet  Commander  Brigitte had set  off  on  her  own
    mission:  to find a man who believed in true love - and had a  body  to
    match.  Poor  Matty was left with a shuttle he could not  control,  and
    crashed  on  The  Prison  Planet,  where  he  met  up  with  Lachy  the
    Psychedelic Prison Guard.

    And so our story continues...


                         ____________________________



    Of  all  the places Pennywise had to deliver pizzas to,  this  floating
    sewer tanker was the worst. It was slow. The air locks were  primitive.
    It stank of stale pizza.

    Standing  in  front  of a steaming grate, which  Pennywise  could  only
    assume  was  the entrance into the cabin, he dreamed of the  cute  chef
    back on Planet Dial-A-Dino.

    "Who ordered the double peanut butter and coleslaw pizza!", he  yelled,
    impatiently.

    Still no buyers. Pausing, Pennywise peered into the grate and saw...


                         ____________________________


    Splinter  (Ghost  Who Walks) wavered on his cushion,  and  sniffed  the
    smoldering  incense about him. In front sat four Ninja Turtles,  paying
    as much undivided attention as Ninja Turtles ever could.

    First  there  is Raphael Sulu (General Discomfort/Yuen  Ho),  the  Star
    Fleet  programmer  extraordinaire,  whose Ninja  skills  can  beat  any
    QuickBasic programmer.

    Then  there  is Donatella Inka (Inka Princess/Sandy Turner),  once	the
    always  smiling, efficient and loyal nurse to Doctor McCoy, now a  lean
    green fighting heroine.

    Next to Donatella sits Leonardo Spock (Zodiac Mindwarp/Gordon  Walker),
    whose  own  vulcanism is now quite difficult to  recognize.  Especially
    since turtles have holes for ears. At least he was still green.

    And finally there is Michaelangelo Kirk (Laserbrain/Rob Judd), who gave
    up a promising career in Star Fleet to lead the Turtles.

    Splinter surveyed his students for effect. "Still, you must fight on ."
    he told them. "For evil still remains in this world."

    Young  Leonardo Spock questioned the old rat. "But Sansei  Master,  our
    lives  would become meaningless if the world was all good and evil  had
    been eradicated."

    Splinter reflected.

    "Shadup!" hissed Splinter, "Don't question the teachings of Ninjahpoo!"

    "Now, gather round turtles... and let us meditate together."

    Splinter began some rather nauseating nasal sounds.

    "Hanky ? " offered Nurse Donatella Inka.

    Splinter thanked Donatella, cleared his nose, and started again.

    "Let us unite our Turtle Power, so we may obtain the knowledge we seek:
    the location of the evil Space Pirates and that dreaded Doc McCoy..."

    Nurse  Donatella Inka, Leonardo Spock, Raphael Sulu, and  Michaelangelo
    Kirk held hands like children and hummed together.

    The  transcendental  moment lasted less than a second.  Raphael  Sulu's
    nose  caught a whiff of that double peanut butter and  coleslaw  pizza,
    and he shot like a magnet to the grate above.

    "PIZZA ! " the four turtles cried.


    "EEEEEK !" cried Pennywise, as he sped out of the sewer tanker air-lock
    and careered into his Dino-Scooter.


    "What was THAT !" exclaimed Michaelangelo Kirk.

    "It's the space pirates ! It's the space pirates !"  shrieked  Raphael
    Sulu, eager for another fight. 

    "Sick'em !" added Splinter, and the four Stir Trek Turtles  raced  out
    after the fleeing Dial-A-Dino delivery person.


                         ____________________________

                                          ..                    .
       .          .                                            ..         .
        . .                                                      ____
                 ..                   .                         /###/
                                                              /#__#|
                                                      .     /# / #|      ..
           .                  .                           /# ./--|
 .                                                      /#   / #|
                _____________________________________./#.------o__/\       .
            _._/_)   |______|________|_______|_______| (       |..\\\
         __/         |-------------------------------|  "--------""  [
   .  _-o|--|    o    ..    ==   = _  ==  DeLorean mkII    |__|_ #oo|[
     [ oo   |             |__|___________________________|  ... __""|[
       ~~~~-+----------------(___(___(___(___(___(___(__|~~~~~~~~---'  .  .
    .                    ..                             .
            .                 .
                 .                            .                  .



                         ____________________________



    Meanwhile,  the now familiar rust-pitted DeLorean was speeding  through
    the void of space.

    "Lets stop for some MacGalacticDonalds!", suggested Mr Jordan.

    "Hey  what  a dooooody idea!", added Handyman, as he  popped  open  his
    seventh Coke for the day.

    Superboy  responded by slamming the DeLorean into reverse, and  left  a
    delightful set of space-tracks in the direction of SpacePort Alfalpha.


                         ____________________________


    Matty  and  Lachy were nearly thrown out of their seats as  their  Star
    Fleet vessel rocketed and lurched all over the place.

    "Warp  Factor seven!" cried Matty, staring in disbelief at  his  laser-
    beam  speed  camera.  The  space-dust from the  path  of  the  speeding
    DeLorean began to break up as the thunder subsided.

    "Huh ?"  questioned Lachy, who was still trying to come to  grips  with
    the control panel of the Star Fleet vessel.

    "That  DeLorean was doing Warp Factor seven! That's illegal! The  speed
    limit here is no more than Warp Factor three."

    "Do we chase 'em ?" asked Lachy.

    "Nah."  replied Matty. "It'll only be a bunch of idiot hoons out for  a
    Saturday  night  spin.... The Lygon Street Hyperbypass Squad  will  get
    them. Just keep tracking that red Jaguar Shuttle."

    "I think it's landed somewhere."  offered Lachy. "It hasn't moved  from
    that sector for at least a minute."

    "Ok,  lets  go  for  it!", cried Matty,  as  he  expertly  applied  the
    accelerator.  Those  driving lessons with Bruce  Wayne  were  certainly
    paying off.

    As  the duo stared out of the cockpit window into the deep  reaches  of
    interstellar  space, Lachy asked, "Mind if I re-decorate the  shuttle's
    lounge while we wait?"  


                         ----------------------------


    The  three  space pirates made their way out of the  Shuttle  Bat,  and
    stood before the busy Alfalpha Space Port Metropolis.

    "Wooaaah!", echoed Handyman. "This place is a dump."

    "Shit  yeah!",  added  Jordy. "Look, even  the  pedestrians  have  been
    graffitied!"

    Supes  laughed.  "More like Lachy Maher has opened a  fashion  boutique
    here!"

    "No MacGalacticChucks...", sobbed Handyman.

    Superboy surveyed the busy street. "Hey folks.. look.. a Cafe!"

    "Nahh!",  answered Handyman. "You know what sort of BBS-user scum  hang
    around those sort of places!"

    "How  about that little bistro over there..", suggested Jordy,  pointed
    to a flashing neon sign above a set of stairs.

    "Cawfeeld  Bistro And Nightspot. What sort of a place is that?",  asked
    Superboy.

    "I  dunno,"  said Handyman, "but I've got some  strange  feeling  we're
    going to find our destinies in there.."

    "Hey!", said the startled Superboy, "How perceptive of you, Handy!"

    "Not really..", Handyman mumbled. "I think its more to do with the fact
    that there is this really big sign above it written by the author  that
    reads 'GO HERE OR LOSE YOUR PARTS IN THE STORY'.."

    And  so  the  three space pirates decided to grab some  dinner  at  the
    Cawfeeld Bistro.


                         ____________________________


    "Waddya mean, you don't serve dinner after 6 p.m.?", taunted  Superboy.
    "What is this, Melbourne or something?"

    "I'm  sorry  sirh, " apologized the waitress, Amy Morris, "but  perhaps
    you  might  be interested in some chips and peanuts from the  Nightclub
    next door.."

    And  so  the  three  very hungry space  pirates  entered  the  Cawfeeld
    Nightspot,  to  be  greeted with really cheap neon  lights,  a  lambada
    dancer  with eels down his back, and a lot of weird looking people  who
    could  only  be adequately described as "the BBS users who  don't  even
    turn up to the meets."

    A few tables away...


                         ____________________________


    Star Fleet Commander Brigitte stared philosophically into her cocktail.
    Across  from her sat Doc, who was trying to convince her to come  along
    to a church session for his brand new religion.

    "You'll  be spiritually enlightened!", he exclaimed, in  that  all-too-
    familiar  air of enthusiasm that religious fanatics seem to be able  to
    dig up even after the greatest setbacks.

    "The spirits here are good enough for me.", she replied, sighing deeply
    into  her alcoholic cordial. She would never find true love in a  dumb,
    sleazy nightclub like this. And with that she took another swig of  the
    rapidly emptying cocktail.

    "Haven't  you ever  wondered about why  you're here? About your purpose
    in life? Meaning? Like, don't you find this common existence in reality
    just  unsatisfying? Like.. I could show you things beyond this  pitiful
    destiny you seek.. I could make you into a shining bright star!"

    "Star?", thought Brigitte. "You mean I could be like Bridget Bardot  or
    something?"

    "Even  better !"  cried Doc. "You could be a major character in  a  RAT
    series!"

    "Nahhh", sighed Brigitte. Such stardom was just too great.

    "Anyway,"  she said, "I thought you were stuck on some  Juliff-forsaken
    planet  in  the Milky Way Galaxy looking for the long  lost  Temple  of
    Doccism."

    "Yeah  I was, then..", went on Doc, approaching motor-mouth speed  with
    great  ease,  just like his idol and inspiration,  Andrew  the  Avatar.
    "When we reached the temple I..."


                         ____________________________


    "I hope you're right this time, Raphael!", grunted Michaelangelo  Kirk,
    as  the four Turtles lumbered down a set of dark,  grime-ridden  stairs
    outside the Cawfeeld Nightspot.

    "Truuuust me!", replied Raphael Sulu. "Have my Turbo Prolog  artificial
    intelligence  persona predication programs ever failed in  the  past???
    C'mon.. Doc has to be in here!"


    "And  wez  d'ya  dink  yours goin'?", greeted  New  Wave.  He  giggled,
    noticing  the strange Turtle features of the four. "To a drag-net  meet
    p'haps?"

    "I'll handle this.", said Michaelangelo Kirk, in the usual  egotistical
    authoritarian Star Fleet Commander way. "As a Star Fleet officer of the
    United  Federation  of  Planets, Stars and  Other  Orbiting  Bodies,  I
    request that you step aside and allow us to enter this dwelling."

    New Wave's eyes lit up. This looked like fun, he thought to himself.

    "Well?", pestered Michaelangelo Kirk.

    New  Wave didn't bother to reply. He picked up his handy  bludgeon  and
    tapped it a few times into his grubby palm.


                         ____________________________


    "Waiter!",  cried  Superboy across the room, "Could  you  do  something
    about that noise outside? I can't even hear myself bullshit."

    "Pity.",  said Mr. Jordan under her breath. Handyman giggled, popped  a
    few peanuts into his mouth and followed with a swig of Coke.

    [Spot the subliminal! -Ed]

    "Now..", said Superboy, returning to the conversation around the table.
    "First, we need a new space ship. We can't obtain total and utter power
    and  dominance  over all living things in that  rust-pitted  travelling
    road-accident."

    "But..but..but..",  said  Handyman.  "I like the  DeLorean!"

    "No  buts.", replied Superboy. "Anyway, I hate doing it that way,  it's
    so messy."

    "And  where do you think we going to get a better ship?", asked  Jordy.
    "We don't have two space-bucks to rub together."

    "What  are  we, holier-than-thou-space-pirates or  something??",  cried
    Superboy. "We steal one!"

    At that moment in time, the noise outside finally ceased, and into  the
    nightclub entered four green, black and blue turtles.

    "Hmm...", thought Superboy. "And I know exactly where to find one."


                         ____________________________


    "Two beers, a Murumbidgee Muddy, and a Diet-Coke for the lady, thanks."
    said  Michaelangelo Kirk, positioning himself comfortably in  front  of
    the bar.

    "Sorry, we don't serve turtles here." said the barman, Gnomie.

    "So ?" smirked Kirk, "I didn't ask for any."


                         ----------------------------


    Matty  and  Lachy  trundled through the dark,  concrete  Alfalpha  Port
    shuttle bay. "There it is!", said Lachy, pointing to a badly parked red
    space-Jaguar  to the far left. The occupant was, to their dismay,  long
    gone.

    "We'll never find Brigitte on this Space-Port!", complained Lachy. 

    "Never  say never!", replied Matty. "I must find her! If I don't -  and
    mummy  finds  out she's left Star Fleet, I'll be  in  bigger-than-Zero-
    Hour's-ego trouble !"

    "Have you a problem?", spoke a faintly metallic voice from behind.  The
    duo spun around. No one was there.

    "Who  said  that?", snapped Matty, his voice echoing through  the  dark
    shuttle bay.

    "I   did!", replied a large rectangular metal box not far away. It  was
    a  vending machine of some sort, one of those classic devices you  meet
    in  Douglas  Adams books, where the vending machine actually  talks  to
    you  and attempts  to sway the unwilling customer into parting  with  a
    few space-bucks for a high-caloried comestible.

    "Hey, its a Serious Cybernetics Mark IV!", exclaimed Lachy. "I've never
    talked to one of them before."

    "Wadja selling?", asked Matty, toying with the machine.

    "Flavoured edible condoms."

    "No thanks.", said Matty. "I've already eaten."


                         ----------------------------


    Soon Matty and Lachy discovered the nightclub.

    "You  call'in dem shoez?", grunted New Wave, tapping his bludgeon  into
    his palm ever so slightly.

    "Why,  I picked them up on sale at Coles Bargain Basement!",  exclaimed
    Matty.

    "And  ya call zat a shirt?", New Wave laughed at Lachy. "It looks  more
    like a road accident."

    Lachy  was insulted. "I quite like this shirt. It matches my fish tie.
    See?"

    New Wave, who was a little short sighted, peered closer at Lachy's tie.
    Quickly  Lachy reached for the button in his trousers, and  turned  the
    Tie Intensity Factor up to full. 

    "Nargggghh!",  cried New Wave, blinded by the bright pink,  purple  and
    gold colours. He staggered back against the wall, momentarily blinded.

    "Good  thinking!",  encouraged  Matty,  as  the  two  ducked  into  the
    nightclub. 


                         ----------------------------


    Matty scanned the nightclub. Then he saw her.

    "Brigitte!", he cried, and rushed to her table.

    "Uh oh!", shrieked Brigitte, as she dropped her cocktail and dashed off
    to the 'Ladies'.

    Matty and Lachy waited outside the toilet door. 

    "She'll  have  to come out.", Lachy assured the impatient  Matty.  "How
    long can a girl stay in there?"

    "Bloody  long!"  cried a row of men in unison, who  were all  lined  up
    outside the toilet door waiting for their dates.


                         ----------------------------


    Unbeknown  to all the men waiting outside, a  secret passage  led  from
    inside  the  toilets to a narrow street behind the  nightclub.  It  was
    built  by  the  many women patrons of the  nightclub,  who  desperately
    wanted to escape their extremely boring and dull dates back inside  the
    nightclub.


                         ____________________________


    It  wasn't  long before the Ninja Turtles discovered they  weren't  the
    only  major  characters  from  a RAT series who  were  present  at  the
    nightclub.


    "RIGHT!", declared Michaelangelo Kirk, raising his ninja sword. "Dudes,
    get those suckas!"

    Handy,  Supes and Jordy sprung up in surprise. "Shit!", they  cried  in
    unison. 

    Raphael  Sulu leaped towards Superboy, thrashing his sais. "At last  we
    have you and the time has come! Prepare to die, you space pirate scum."

    Supes jumped backwards, and upturned a table in front of Raphael. "Such
    mighty words from something so Keen. It's enough to turn me green!"

    Donatella  Inka reached for her Ninja star, and twirled it towards  Mr.
    Jordan.  She  ducked, and cried back, "Har-har! Inka, it  appears  your
    Ninja star, although it travelled so very far, has missed me by several
    feet, and landed in a vacant seat!"

    "Curses..", swore Donatella. "Come back little girl, I want to give  my
    numchukas a whirl!"

    Michaelangelo  Kirk saw Handyman reaching for a bottle from behind  the
    bar.  "I wouldn't try that old trick. Our turtle shells are solid as  a
    brick!"

    Handyman  saw Michaelangelo coming, and jumped onto the  bar,  shouting
    "It's not a weapon of war. It's another Coke, I'm up to twenty four!"

    Leonardo  Spock came charging from behind, and shoved Handyman off  the
    bar, before crashing into a crowd of on-lookers.

    The  barman,  Gnomie,  cried out from under  the  stack  of  struggling
    people.  "Off my leg, you great big galoot! If I was manager, I'd  give
    you the boot!"

    The reply was  quick, from  Amy  Morris the  waitress. "Don't call me a
    galoot, you little concrete gnome! Why don't you go back to your garden
    home?!"

    Jordy ducked between blows from Donatella Inka. "Hey we're outnumbered,
    three to four! Quick guys, let's use the door!".

    But it was too late; Donatella Inka stood in front of it.

    Handyman  called  back, "Jordy, I'm  not so rapt, it looks  like  we're
    positively trapped!"

    "Not yet!" replied Supes. "Lets do it Rock Hudson style - use the  back
    door in single file!".

    The  trio  darted over the bar and out the back, pursued by  four  lean
    green Turtles shouting "Kowabungles!".


                         ----------------------------


    The  three  pirates  emerged onto the street.  "Where  now?",  pestered
    Handyman.

    "I got an idea!", cried Supes. He dug into his pocket, and pulled out a
    small plastic bag. He then sat down and quickly began blowing.

    "What are you doing!?", cried Jordy.

    "Watch...",  said  Supes between breaths, as the plastic bag  began  to
    expand. 

    "Oh, its not one of those is it!", cried Jordy in disbelief. "Oh YUK!"

    The  bag  expanded some more, and began to take the form of  a  blow-up
    doll. 

    "How we gonna escape with that?", asked the worried Handyman. 

    Supes  blew  some more. Now the doll was twice the  normal  recommended
    size. It began to rise. Now it was several metres wide.

    "Hang  on!", cried Supes, as the doll began to lift into the  air.  The
    trio  reluctantly  grabbed  onto the balloon, and they  eased  off  the
    ground.

    The four Turtles emerged from the nightclub. Leonardo Spock immediately
    saw the balloon, now several hundred metres away.

    "Quick - your ninja star!", cried Michaelangelo Kirk to Raphael Sulu.

    Raphael  Sulu  pulled out a nice shiny star, and threw it  towards  the
    hovering  balloon. It struck, and a wheezing sound filled the air.  The
    balloon began to move swiftly under the pressure of the escaping air.

    "Wooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!",  cried the trio, as the  balloon  rocketed
    over the city, and out of the sight of the cursing Turtles.


                         ____________________________


    Back  inside the nightclub, Admiral Plato  was enjoying three  days  of
    R&R,  got up from under the table. He eyed a gorgeous bottle blonde  at
    the bar. He stood up, picked something out  of his pocket and unwrapped
    it a little, then walked over to the floozy.

    "Say, would you like a Fruit Tingle?"

    The girl looked up. "Huh? Oh, no thanks.."

    "Ok then. Can I tingle your fruit instead?"

    {Splash!}


                         ____________________________


    "Why did you bring us here?", asked Handy, as the trio paused to  catch
    their breath outside the Shuttle Bay service booth.

    Superboy pressed the buzzer several times impatiently.

    "Yerrrs??",  came the reply from inside. A funny looking face  appeared
    in the booth window.

    "Eeek!  It's  Dave Bowman. What are you doing here?",  asked  Supes  in
    surprise.

    "Parking shuttles, what else would I be doing ?" replied Dave.

    "Thats  not  original."  pointed out Jordy, an obvious fan  of  Douglas
    Adams.

    "No, but would he sue a RAT magazine ?" asked Dave, rhetorically.

    "Reminds  me  of a certain other RAT star who  intended  to  sue  us, "
    commented Supes. "A Mr. Ampersand I believe!"

    "Anyway," said Dave, "what can I do you for?"

    "Theft.  Destruction of private property. Assault. Felony. Bad  jokes."
    replied Jordy, sighing. "The works."

    "By  any  chance, would you happen to have a Star Ship  parked  here ?"
    questioned Supes.

    "You're in luck !"  said  Dave, "One came in about  an  hour  ago.  The
    U.S.S.Egoprise."

    "Perfect !" exclaimed Superboy. "Which way?"

    "Third  turbo lift on your right. Fifth level, three space  ships  past
    the exit sign."

    "Ta !" thanked Superboy, and the three pirates dashed off to the  turbo
    lifts.



    Moments later, four green turtles came pounding down the cause-way, and
    stopped at the booth.

    "Did three teenage space pirates happen to come past this way ?"  asked
    Michaelangelo Kirk.

    "None that I've seen." replied Dave Bowman, innocently.

    Raphael Sulu tried to get Michaelangelo Kirk's attention.

    "Hmm, "  thought  Kirk.   "How about three teenage  BBS  users  looking
    vaguely like space pirates?"

    "Nope." replied Dave again.

    "Capt'n" began Raphael Sulu.

    "Ok. How about three teenage BBS users looking decidely like characters
    in a RAT series ?" tried Kirk.

    "Hmmm. Possibly." hinted Dave.

    "CAPTAIN !" cried Raphael Sulu.

    Michaelangelo Kirk turned to Raphael.

    "THE  EGOPRISE !"  yelled Raphael Sulu, pointing upwards to  the  glass
    canopy over the shuttle bay. Through the tinted glass one could see the
    myriad  of glinting stars that made up the Milky Way galaxy, like  city
    lights on a clear night. And to the far right hand corner, the familiar
    shape of the U.S.S. Egoprise was making its way into the distance.


                         ____________________________


    The  nightclub was almost empty now. Doc sat at his table,  all  alone.
    Nobody wanted to listen to him anymore. It was very disheartening.

    "This is where it all began."  he sighed, swirling a cigarette infested
    glass.  "It was in  this  same nightclub, ten years ago... when I was a
    young  lad  straight  out  of  CyberYewni,  trying  to  find  followers
    for  my  new  religion, Doccism. And  {sigh}  I  am here again, {double
    sigh} and I have failed  again. Nobody wants to follow me. {sob} Nobody
    wants to  listen to  my  teachings, my wisdom, my new-found  enlighten-
    ment.  {mega  sob} What  ever  shall I do ? Where-ever shall I go? They
    won't  even  take  me  back  into  Star  Fleet  again,  now that I'm an
    outlawed space pirate..."

    The  alcohol  had  reached  ultimate  effect  now,  and  Doc  collapsed
    hopelessly into the table.

    Effortlessly  New  Wave  approached, picked up the  drunken  slob,  and
    dumped him outside.

                         ____________________________



                           The End Of Episode Four.


    What  will happen to Doctor McCoy now? Will his religion  succeed,  and
    give  Doc ultimate control over everything? Or will it fail again,  and
    world continue its decadent anarchistic existence?

    Where  will Brigitte go next? Will Matty ever find her again? And  will
    mummy  find  out?  Will Lachy ever get some  fashion  sense?  Will  the
    shuttle lounge ever look hospitable again? 

    And  what about the space pirates? What will be their next  calculating
    move?  And  how much longer can they successfully evade the  Stir  Trek
    Ninja Turtles? Will Admiral Plato ever get more than three lines?

    What of child poverty? And the greenhouse effect? What effect will this
    have on the Universe's economy? What colour eye shadow will Jana  Wendt
    wear next? Is Santa a paedophile? And what will happen when Hinch finds
    out?

    These  questions  and many others probably have very little  chance  of
    being answered in the next episode, but go and read it anyway..

                 Stir Trek 5 : The Search For Literacy Skills.



    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-



                           MERRY CHRISTMAS A.T.& T.

                     or.. "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" 

                               by Gordon Walker



                          better !pout !cry
                          better watchout
                          lpr why
                          santa claus <north pole >town

                          cat /etc/passwd >list
                          ncheck list 
                          ncheck list
                          cat list | grep naughty >nogiftlist
                          cat list | grep nice >giftlist
                          santa claus <north pole > town

                          who | grep sleeping
                          who | grep awake
                          who | egrep 'bad|good'
                          for (goodness sake) {
                               be good }


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-




                                           ,===.  ,===,
                                          //   `=='
                                         //
                                    ((( || (((((((((((()
                                  ##.------.        ##_-
                           _____## /        \_____##____
                        (((---##--/         |---##-----)))
                            ##   /         /  ##_-_-
                          ##- __/__       / ##_-_-
                        ppppp<  V  >pppppppp_-_-
                       _-  //`-x x-'//    _-_-
                     _-  (((  |,/  (((  _-_-
                   _-        (_)      _-_-
                   |~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|-
                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


                 "I'm not really that fond of cheese anyway."

                                                        -Nikolai Kinglsey



    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-



                A DICTIONARY FOR THE NOVICE BULLETIN BOARD USER


                            by Inka Princess & Doc




    chataholic (say ch-a-t'hol-ick) noun
      someone who, unable to hold a substantial conversation in public, has
      reduced their entire social interaction through late-night keyboard
      conversation.
      see also: cafe-user

    chatattack (say chah-t-a'tack) noun
      1.  the  accidental depression of the ALT and C keys on  the  SysOp's
      keyboard resulting in several hours of erratic bursts of keyboard use
      sometimes described as a regressive form of inter-communication.
      2. a SysOp's devious way of telling you not to log-off yet.

    download (say d-OW-n-l-OH-d) verb
      unnecessary duplication of information. Excessive usage may cause
      loss of memory.

    late-night chataholic (lay-tt nye-tt chat-ah-hol-ick)
      a strange, nocturnal creature that spends most of the night indulging
      in the most uncivilized of rituals, chatting on a multi-lined ghetto-
      style  bulletin board system. Beyond the help of the  most  concerned
      social worker. Sees less sunlight than a morlock.

    leech (say l-eeeee-ch) noun
      someone with a bigger hard-disc than they deserve.

    megablob (say meh-ga-blob) noun 
      a mass of meaningless message.
      see also: Lachlan Maher

    page (say b-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-P!) verb
      a 14 year old male Amiga user's mating call.

    phlbbbbt! (say phlbbbbbt!) exclamation
      go stick your head in a pig.
      see also: raspberry

    SysOp (say s-ih-s-oh-P!) noun
      a crazed individual who thought spending several thousand dollars  on
      their personal computer system so that others could use it instead of
      them was kind of a good idea.

    shades (say shay-dz) noun
      something you wear in the presence of Lachlan Maher.
      see also: Shirt, Tie

    Shirt (say sh-err-t) proper noun
      something Lachlan Maher once wore to a barbecue, and now regrets.

    Tie (say t-i) proper noun
      something Lachlan Maher once wore to a party, and now regrets.

    Volvo (say vul-va-oh!) noun (Swedish)
      1. a big fat ugly imported car.
      2. motorcyclists' nightmare.
      usage: "I was run down by a Volvo."

    Volvo driver (say d-ih-k-he-d) noun
      person behind the wheel of a Volvo, wearing a white bowling hat.

    upload (say UH-p-l-oh-D) verb
      a sacrificial gift to the Gods.

    zorch (say Z-orwch) noun
      1. an attempt by an antisocial message writer to gain friends through
      a carefully worded selection of insults, complaints, accusations and
      criticism.
      2. used to win arguments when the facts don't work.
      word family: zorched, zorcher
      usage: "I was zorched by DAC."



    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-



                               HORROR - SCOPES !


                     What the stars say about your future.


                   by the astrologer herself, Inka Princess


                            * * * * * * * * * * * *


    Capricorn :- (Dec. 22 - Jan. 20)  The goat.

    With both Jupiter and Venus in Uranus this month, you are going to have
    a hard time going anywhere. Try not to think about it though, and  take
    plenty of laxatives, and it will be sure to pass.

    Lucky numbers: 266 and 413
    Lucky colour : brown


                            * * * * * * * * * * * *


    Aquarius :- (Jan. 21 - Feb. 19)  The water bearer.

    The sun is  currently  traversing your sign, so be sure to wear  plenty
    of  sun-screen,  especially at night. Conditions are  favorable  for  a
    short  trip, so be on the lookout for low obstacles. Financially,  your
    affairs have been going discreetly in the last six months. Try to  keep
    it that way.

    Lucky numbers: 143 and 2,954,890
    Lucky colour : puce


                            * * * * * * * * * * * *


    Pisces :- (Feb. 20 - Mar. 20)  The fish.

    Wonderful  and  exciting  things  are  planned  for  this  month,   but
    unfortunately  none of them involve you in the slightest way.  Mars  is
    very foreboding, so we recommend that you don't make plans to go  there
    in  the  immediate  future. Some-one close to you  will  go  through  a
    testing time, so give them a hand with their revision.

    Lucky numbers: 7 and 3
    Lucky colour : chartreuse


                            * * * * * * * * * * * *


    Aries :- (Mar. 21 - Apr. 20)  The ram.

    Although  Aries  is  the sign of the ram,  we  recommend  you  exercise
    caution in any kind of relationship you may have with a sheep. They are
    out  to  fleece  you,  or at least to pull the  wool  over  your  eyes.
    Especially  be  on the look out for a short blonde Merino,  as  she  is
    likely to have enormous influence on your future.

    Lucky numbers: 1 and .05
    Lucky colour : ecru


                            * * * * * * * * * * * *


    Taurus :- (Apr. 21 - May 21)  The bull.

    Your powers of persuasion will be at their greatest this month, so take
    advantage of it while it lasts. Somebody connected with you  intimately
    in  the  past could reappear in your life on or after the 15th,  and  a
    great deal of tact will be required in your dealings with them. Failing
    that, a loaded shotgun could work wonders.

    Lucky numbers: 275 and 19
    Lucky colour : scarlet


                            * * * * * * * * * * * *


    Gemini :- (May 22 - June 21)  The twins.

    You  have  been in two minds about something for a long time  now,  but
    slowly  the  therapy is having results and you will have  a  much  more
    peaceful  year once the voices stop. You and your partner will have  to
    proceed with caution towards a much desired goal, else you may well end
    up with only a behind. Beware of small Holden cars when crossing roads.

    Lucky numbers: 66 and 99
    Lucky colour : gray


                            * * * * * * * * * * * *


    Cancer :- (June 23 - July 22)  The crab.

    Try  to avoid any temptation to ill-humour this month, as  your  crabby
    nature could get you into difficulties with one you admire. If you have
    children,  don't  let the nippers get you down, and try to use  a  more
    lateral approach to problems instead of confronting them head on. Avoid
    asbestos-filled products.

    Lucky numbers: 3 and -147
    Lucky colour : green


                            * * * * * * * * * * * *


    Leo :- (July 23 - Aug. 23)  The lion.

    You will be in line to grab the lion's share of anything you come  into
    contact with this month. Your mane problems will be in the area of your
    pride,  and  it  is possible that you are heading  for  a  fall.  While
    Jupiter  is  traversing your sign, conditions are  favourable  for  all
    kinds of financial transactions especially those involving cash of some
    kind.

    Lucky numbers: 28 and 69
    Lucky colour : turquoise


                            * * * * * * * * * * * *


    Virgo :- (Aug. 24 - Sept. 23)  The virgin.

    Now is the time to try something new and interesting, an opportunity to
    do something you have never done before will suddenly come your way, so
    don't  be  shy ... reach out and grab it with both hands and  see  just
    what  you can do with it. This month you may be prone to accidents,  so
    make  certain  that you take adequate precautions before  embarking  on
    anything adventurous.

    Lucky numbers: 1 and 66
    Lucky colour : red


                            * * * * * * * * * * * *


    Libra :- (Sept. 24 - Oct. 23)  The scales.

    Known  for  your  safety and dependability, you will  find  that  extra
    stress  this month will see a wide variety of people depending on  your
    special  talents.  Relax  in  the  sure  knowledge  that  you  will  be
    adequately  protected  against embarrassing personal  discomfort.  This
    month will be a good time for changes.

    Lucky numbers: 21 and 7
    Lucky colour : white


                            * * * * * * * * * * * *


    Scorpio :- (Oct. 24 - Nov. 22)  The scorpion.

    Be  cautious in dealing with small annoyances, and don't let  them  get
    your back up over non-essential details. Financially you will  possibly
    feel the sting of bad investment or loan, but keep your wits about  you
    and  avoid losing your temper if it is possible. Your best  defence  is
    offence, and others will be well advised to tread carefully around  you
    at any time.

    Lucky numbers: 49 and 36
    Lucky colour : beige


                            * * * * * * * * * * * *


    Sagittarius :- (Nov. 23 - Dec. 21)  The archer.

    A  multi-talented person, you always have more than one string to  your
    bow. You may miss a friend or acquaintance early in the month, but  you
    will  find  your aim improving in the last week or 10  days.  All  your
    projects  will be on target and a superior or work-mate will grant  you
    the recognition that you seek.

    Lucky numbers: 89 and 75
    Lucky colour : yellow


                            * * * * * * * * * * * *


    And if it's your birthday today, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-



            ____     ____
           /    \   /    \
          /      \_/      \
         /   /\       /\   \   A   C       C    H   U   C   K   S   !
        /   /  \     /  \   \
       /___/    \___/    \___\


                       MacDonalds is that kind of place,
                       hamburgers in your face,
                       french fries between your toes,
                       dill pickles up your nose. 
                       I hate those shakes and soggy bags.
                       I want my money back
                       before I have a heart a-ttack.


                      by Tikva and the Phantom Avenger!



    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-



                                SANTA EXPOSED!


                         (A multi tasking fairy tale.)

                                by Dave Seikel



            Some names have been changed, to protect the innocent,

                                and the guilty.



                                  Characters:

           Lucky Mayhem : A red-haired elf in training, with a taste
                               for loud shirts.

                 Karnulf Elorin : Supervising elf, and Lucky's
                                   trainer.

              Santa Clawed : Our hero, busy delivering presents.


                        Various recipients of presents.


    A red haired elf in a very loud shirt walks into a C.E.S. office. After
    waiting in a short queue (one other person) for three hours, one of the
    bureaucrats deigns to talk to him.

    "Can I help you?" demands the stuffed shirt, condescendingly.

    "Err, I'm looking for some seasonal work." the loud shirt responds.

    "Name?"

    "Lucky Mayhem."

    "Take a seat, someone will be with you shorty, err shortly, and can you
    do something about that shirt?"

    Lucky  looks around for a vacant seat, then finds a comfortable bit  of
    carpet in a corner to sit on.

                                     .....

    Four hours later.

    "I'm sorry, we're closing now, you'll have to come back tomorrow. Bring
    a quieter shirt next time."

    Despondently, Lucky heads for the door. Just before leaving, he notices
    out of the corner of his eye, a notice on the "Seasonal work" board.


                "Elves required for large charity organisation.
                Job No 128DVS69           Easy work, high pay."


    "There's a job for me." exclaims Lucky, as the stuffed shirt kicks  him
    out of the office, locking the door behind him. Lucky squashes his face
    up  to  the  window, this giving him a clear view  of  the  notice.  He
    memorizes the job number.

                                     .....

    The  next day, after waiting in the C.E.S. for only five  hours,  Lucky
    finally got to see someone about that job.

    "Go to this address, and ask for Karnulf Elorin. Oh, and do yourself  a
    favour, change that shirt. You'll never get a job in that," ordered the
    stuffed shirt, handing Lucky a piece of paper.

    Much happier, now that he has a prospect for a decent job, Lucky leaves
    the C.E.S., and heads across the street, to wait in the stationary tram
    for  a bus. He mumbles to himself "Good idea, turning these trams  into
    bus shelters, otherwise they would rust away from lach of use."

    An  official Met bus pulls up. Lucky gets on it and asks  the  official
    Met  bus  driver: "Could you tell me what bus I need to  catch  to  get
    to..."  he  looks  at the piece of paper "...  err,  42  Smith  Street,
    Darwin?"

    The Bus driver chortles to himself, then replies "Try a Greyhound, mate
    and get a real shirt"

    "Ta."

    Lucky gets out of the bus; luckily, the next bus is a Greyhound.

    "Excuse me, driver, does this bus go to 42 Smith street, Darwin?"

    "Sure  does, let's see your scratch ticket. I got this special seat for
    you,  on  the  front  bumper. That should save wear  and  tear  on  the
    headlights."

                                     .....

    Four days later.

    42  Smith Street is a large, modern-looking building, with a  big  sign
    proclaiming  "Clawed  Inc."  Lucky  enters  the  foyer  and  asks   the
    receptionist if he could see Karnulf Elorin.

    "Certainly, sir."

    Almost  before she had finished speaking, an elf with long blonde  hair
    (and,  strangely enough, a small beard) appears behind Lucky  and  says
    "Ah,  you  must be Lucky Mayhem! I've been expecting you.  My  name  is
    Karnulf  Elorin, and I will be your supervisor and trainer.  Follow  me
    please."

    Karnulf explains  as they travel downwards: "Do you  believe  in  Santa
    Clawed?"

    "Err, um, (cough). Yes I do, but don't you mean `Santa Claws'?" replies
    Lucky, sheepishly. [Baaah! -Ed]

    "They  are  the same person. Some dork spelled `Clawed' wrong,  and  it
    stuck. Santa is the boss around here, we are a support organisation for
    his  activities, that's why we need a lot of elves, especially at  this
    time of year."

   "I thought that Santa Claws.. err Clawed lived in the North Pole?"

    "The  cold is bad for his health, these days Darwin is as far north  as
    he wants to go. The organisation works like this, Santa gives us a list
    of  the  things  he wants to give to people at christmas,  then  we  go
    through  that  list and do what ever we have to do to  get  the  stuff.
    Then, at Christmas time, some of us sit in the control centre and  keep
    track  of  all  the fiddly little details, while the  rest  run  around
    taking  care of last minute details. Your education will start  in  the
    control centre." 

    At that moment, the two elves arrived at their destination, a room full
    of  elves sitting in front of monitors, looking very much like a  Space
    Shuttle launch, only much more high tech.

                                     .....

    Lucky and Karnulf sat down in front of the nearest monitor.

    "Where does all the money come from?", asked Lucky.

    Karnulf was quick to respond. "Santa pays for it all with his  American
    Excess card, then he diddles with the American Excess computer,  making
    it  look like the Yank Department of Defense paid for it all. His  last
    stop is the D.O.D. accounting computer, to make it think that the money
    was  spent  on M.X. missiles, or M.X. computers, or  something  equally
    useful."

    Lucky peered intently at the monitor. A red and white motorcycle pulled
    up  silently beside a police station. A big bearded bikey, wearing  red
    and  white  leathers,  gets of the bike. The bikey is  unusual  in  two
    aspects,  he has the longest finger nails that you have ever seen,  and
    he is going INTO the cop shop voluntarily.

    "How does he do it all in one night?", quizzed Lucky.

    "Huh?", replied Karnulf. "I don't know, I think you'd have to ask  Mrs.
    Clawed about that one. Beats me, I've tried everything. Oysters,  olive
    oil, string, the works.."

    "No, I meant all the delivering of the parcels..", groaned Lucky.

    "Zat.. Oh, with the help of a motorcycle pulled by eight reindeer."

    Karnulf twiddled a few buttons on the monitor, and the muffled voice of
    Santa  could barely be heard....

     "  .... Home of the Decadence BBS. Hmmm, two paedophiles  living  with
    four  kids  and  a gnome. Now, what did I have for them,  ah  yes,  the
    whips, chains and handcuffs."

                                     .....

    Lucky noticed Santa's rather large figure. "How does such a big guy fit
    down those chimneys?"

    "He  doesn't,  Santa  prefers to go in the front  door.  Sometimes  the
    back door too, but that's really icky if you mess it up."

                                     .....


    The  monitor's  image changes, now Santa is deep in the bowels  of  the
    Education Department's Computer center, a rapidly clicking away on  the
    keys of a terminal and mumbling to himself....

    " .... canteen requisitions, school fees, stationary profits, excursion
    details,  candidates  for  virginal sacrifice, late  notes,  fake  late
    notes,  bomb  squad contact numbers, principles  slush  fund,  corporal
    punishment  waiting  list  (teachers), donations  to  the  Little  Girl
    Appreciation  Society, exams, exam results, reports, AHAH! Here it  is,
    Anderson scores."

    "Now,  lets make a few changes. Lachlan Maher - 394, Doc -  386,  Bruce
    Wayne - 384, General Discomfort - 12."

    "How does he know what to get everybody?", asked Lucky.

    "He mostly gives people what they deserve, though that isn't always what
    they want."

    "Is that why I got a new wardrobe for christmas last year?"

                                     .....

    Now Santa was visiting a small cottage in the wilds of Burwood. Karnulf
    fiddled some more buttons, and Santa's voice emerged through a speaker.

    "Mr  Jordan  ..  six MatchBox cars, lots  of  fashionable  Barbie  doll
    clothes  (some original), one posh house of ill repute in South  Yarra,
    one  drivers license (hmm, I'll have to fiddle the age a bit),  driving
    lessons,  a  lifetime  pass  to  the  local  panel-beaters,   diamonds,
    sapphires,  and  a  billion dollars. I hope she  appreciates  this,  it
    wasn't easy finding a stretched black Statesman DeVille MatchBox car."

                                     .....

    "He must be a cop, he keeps going into cop shops.", noted Lucky.

    "The  visits to the cop shops are so that he can make some  changes  to
    some  philes.  He changes traffic philes, drug  philes,  paedophiles...
    Mostly to protect victimless criminals."

                                     .....

    Well,  now you've seen everything, which department would you  like  to
    start work?", asked Karnulf.

    "The accounts department!", exclaimed Lachy, revealing from his  pocket
    a  shining badge of the Taxation Department. "Under the new  regulation
    3.1415  paragraph  9, you can no longer write off christmas  as  a  tax
    deduction.  And  so  Santa-baby  now owes  the  government  a  trillion
    dollars!   That  will  teach  him  for  forgetting  to  give  the   Tax
    Commissioner a pressie this year!"
 
    "But..but..", blabbered Karnulf in disbelief. "I thought you were  just
    a poor unemployed C.E.S. refugee?"

    "Ah!", exclaimed Lucky. "Us Taxation Investigators like to hang  around
    C.E.S.  offices.  Anybody  who can afford to  employ  people  during  a
    recession must be cheating the government!"



    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


                     UNDERSTANDING   COMPUTER  TECHNOLOGY

		   Pinched without regard to copyright from

			    Inki's Bedroom Wall



                  Function Key
                  /
              __n___
              I    I                   _________
      Main  _ I    I   Floppy disk     I  ___  I
     Storage  I    I  '                I=(___)=I   - Application Software
              I    I I                 I_/  /__I 
              I    I I    INPUT        ~~\  \~~~
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                II   I___________             
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                     )        /   Processing                           II
         OUTPUT --  I        (       Unit           .-._               II
                    I_________`,                  o_oo'_)              II
                    ~~~~~***&%~                   `._ `._              II
                        ###@^&&&                     `,  \            /__\
       ._____._        &&&%%## - Overflow            //_(_)_/         ~~~~
       I      o)                (I/O error)         ~~
       (_____,-'                                         Mouse
      
        Backup System



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    Roll out that unbleached dunny paper! Grab that empty can of V.B., it's
    recyclable!  Plant more walnut trees! Save the red-nosed,  big  bellied
    hippopotamus! 

    Don't  you  just hate social trends that require effort??  Fear not, as
    Dead Rat Society Helpful Hints presents...



                       How To Build An Image Of Being...



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                             by Bungalow Hermit


    First  of  all,  we  must define the  difference  between  "image"  and
    "actuality".  For   example, Fearless Fred puts an image  of  perpetual
    drunkenness. In  fact it  is  a clever cover-up of muscular  dystrophy,
    the omnipresent  Fosters is really medication.

    The   aim   of this informative piece of writing is to  enable  you  to
    hold  an image of caring for the environment, the planet and humankind,
    while in fact actually  only caring about yourself, which is much  more
    natural.

    For   some   time  that pile of V.B. cans has been piling up  in   your
    bedroom right?  Well  next time mummy comes to visit, point out to  her
    that  you're  collecting these cans for recycling.

    A   big  consumer  of electrical energy is  your  household  hot  water
    system.   To cut  down  the  excessive use of hot water, don't   bother
    cleaning  dishes; instead  of  drinking  tea  or coffee opt for a  cold
    drink,  perhaps  V.B.; and shower with a friend.

    That  unroad-worthy  pile of scrap metal on four wheels you call a  car
    is  a contributor  to the pollution of the atmosphere. Use this as   an
    excuse   to scum  a lift off others. This method also uses less of  the
    world's depleted fossil fuels by saving petrol, which consequently lets
    you  avoid  paying   for petrol,  and   makes   those  greedy,  scummy,
    leeching  service  station  owners go bankrupt. (Why on earth  do  they
    call  those  things  "service  stations" when you have  to  do  it  all
    yourself anyway?) 

    Healthy  living  is all part of being green. Bloody Marys with a  slice
    of  lemon can look convincingly like tomato juice.  (But watch out  for
    strings.)  When   entertaining,   serve  'salads   with    side   meat'
    instead.    Buy   two  refrigerators,  store   fruit,   vegetables  and
    everything  else  healthy  and tasteless  in  one, and place it in  the
    kitchen;  and  store  all the food  you need to eat  to  survive,  like
    microwave  hamburgers,  2-minute noodles, 4'n'20s and  V.B.,  into  the
    second refrigerator kept on the back verandah.

    Green   politics.  We  all  know these green politicians are  just   as
    power  lusting   and  corrupt as the other maggots,  but  appearing  to
    support them  is all  you  need  to do. A few bumper-bar stickers  will
    do here.  So  long  as no-one  peeks  over  your shoulder when you fill
    out  the ballot  ticket,  or follows  you  on the evening of the  first
    Thursday of every month,  you  can still vote Commie. 

    Protesting  for green issues. Easy! Try dropping this line at the  next
    party..  "Oh,   yes,  I was in the ten  thousand  strong   anti-logging
    protest  in  the city the other day, didn't you see me in the crowd??"

    Recycle  rats! No, not the furry kind. When you  print  your  copy   of
    this edition, show it to all your friends, so they don't have to  print
    it  out too. (The  fact  that  this  also  increases   our   readership
    is  just  a  minor side-effect, trust me.)

    Got  a girl-friend who likes doing it in odd places? Why not  take  her
    for   an innocent little "nature walk" in the wilderness. Walk off  the
    track, and get lost for a few days!

    Ozone  layer  depletion.  Yes, a very important issue. But  what  about
    the  P-zone and the Q-zone, why doesn't anybody do anything about  them
    too?



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   | |   _   | | | | | | | | | |   _   | | |      /  | |  | |  |  / _/ _/_ 
   | |  | |  | | | |\| |\| | | |  | |  | | |  |\  \  | |  |_|  | |\/  /___\
    \|__|\|__|  \|_________|  \|__|\|__|  \|__|\\__|  \|______/   \|_______|




          SYSOP OF THE MONTH...........................Lachlan Maher
                               (Gummed-up BBS ?)


          DRIBBLER AWARD.......................................Tikva



          LACHY MAHER WARDROBE AWARD...................Inka Princess
                            (Burn that dress baby!)


          PISS-POT AWARD............................Alex "hic" Rogan
                                   (again!)


          PUSSY SQUASHING AWARD........................Lachlan Maher
                                 (meeeeoooow!)


          MOTOR-MOUTH AWARD...................................Avatar


	  WESLEY CRUSHER LOOKALIKE AWARD.........................Doc



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                              CALL THESE BOARDS!
                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                          because we're the SysOps..


                                   VICTORIA

                    For interstate callers, prefix with 03
                 For international callers, prefix with +61-3


     Decadence BBS	      794-7949	     all speeds to 14.4K
     S.I.G. BBS               888-8846       all speeds to 2400 baud
     Euphoria BBS	      569-1573	     all speeds to 2400 baud
     The Cafe BBS (4 lines)   894-2815	     all speeds to 2400 baud
		  (5th line)  894-3483	     all speeds to 9600 baud



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                       REALLY BORING OFFICIALDOM STUFF..
                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

         RAT  is  an  electronic  amateur  writers'  magazine.  It  is
         officially  unofficiated with anything official,  unofficial,
         or anything unofficially official.

         RAT  is designed to be read as an entertaining collection  of
         amateur  writings.  The opinions expressed in  the  file  are
         entirely opinionated and not necessarily the opinions of  the
         authors, editors, and anyone else with an opinion.

         RAT  is wholly electronic, in official standard  ASCII  text.
         RAT is distributed throughout the electronic bulletin  boards
         of  the  world  (primarily greater  Melbourne  suburbia).  No
         revenue  may be gained from its distribution in any way.  The
         editors   reserve  the  right  to  refuse  to   include   any
         submissions. And we're not a bunch of fascists neither.

         Each   new  RAT  is  released  when  submissions  exceed   50
         kilobytes, or 50 kilograms, whichever comes first.

         Upload   submissions  to  Decadence  BBS.  We  print   almost
         everything.  (Exceptions  are personal  ego-trips,  vendettas
	 or material in extremely bad taste.)



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				   RATTITORIAL


    Another  RAT issue! Ok, ok, late again, but whats a few YEARS between
    rats? The delay is mostly a result of having nothing to print - so  get
    your  act together out there and write something! You couldn't  do  any
    worse than us.

    Keep your eyes open for the entirely NEW-LOOK RAT FILES to be produced
    in 1993. Submissions of SF & Fantasy Short Stories, Poetry, Articles
    are welcome, and can be sent via Fidonet to 3:632/103, Intlnet to
    58:4100/33, RainbowNet to 199:4242/3 or ACSNet to inki@csource.oz.au,
    or just log on to Decadence and upload them.

    Keep rattin'.

    The Eds.


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                           o
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                         I  `'I  II_II___II_II
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    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= The Dead Rat Society Lives  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


