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      ßß   ßßßßß   ßßßßß  ßß   ßß  ßßßßßß          ßßßßßß   ßßßßßß  ßßßßß
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             ßßßß ßßß    ßßß  ßßßß ßßßß ßßßß    ßßß ßßßß ßßßß ßßßß
 
 The Misfits: Drug Lord, Evil, Mad Dog, Predat0r, Sinister X, Spermie, The Duke
                                >Unknown< Others
 
              Blitzkrieg Bbs (502)/499-8933     NUP:Columbian Coke



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[ What follows is a conversation with man who knows more than ]
[ you or I ever will.  Heed his word's well.  "ME:" is me,    ]
[ "AN:" is him                                                ]


AN: Hello?

ME: Hi is Alan there?

AN: Yes, who's this?

ME: Hi, is Mr. Meshuga there?

AN: This is he.

ME: Hello?

AN: Yes, can I help you?!

ME: I'm sorry.  My name is Abraham Epstein.

AN: Abraham Epstein.

ME: And I wanted to know if I could ask you a few questions.

AN: Abraham Epstein, are you the same Abraham Epstein that called
me up about a week ago?

ME: I might have been.

AN: From Brooklyn?

ME: Yes, I think so.

AN: Hold on a second, Abraham.  Hold on a second.

ME: Alright.

AN: How'd you get my number, Abraham?

ME: I believe that I got your number in reference to the Power
Computer.

AN: Yes, but who gave you my number?  That's what I want to know. 
And how did you get this information?

ME: I got this information essentially from a man named Mr.
Morris.  He's in Washington.

AN: Mr. Morris?

ME: Right.  And I consult with him and I just wanted to get more
information from him.  He felt--

AN: What number is that Abraham?  Not that I'm not getting nosy
or anything, but I want to check this out.

ME: I don't have Mr. Morris's number.  He's in Washington.  I can
only contact him by calling--

AN: Abraham, look I'm going to put it to you this way: I'm in the
middle with the FBI on this and don't worry about.  I'm going to
be a nice guy to you and say: don't worry about it.  OK?  I don't
want to get into this with you.  If you have any credentials, if
you're affiliated with Washington -- are you?

ME: Yes.

AN: What do you do for Washington.

ME: Mainly I consult with Mr. Morris and I also -- It's in
relation to Senator Moynihan.

AN: It's in relation to Senator Moynihan.  Are you a constituent
of Senator Moynihan's?

ME: Yes

AN: And you live in Brooklyn?

ME: That's right.

AN: Are you a Congressmen or an Assemblymen or anything?

ME: No, I'm not.  I'm a consultant of the Government.  You know,
you don't have to talked to me if you don't want to but I felt
that--

AN: Well I'd rather not because, you know, I really don't know
you and here you are.

ME: I see.

AN: OK?

ME: Well it might be profitable if I could ask you a few
questions.

AN: Alright, just ask me one question.  Go ahead.

ME: OK, well I was interested in mainly the ramifications the
Power Computer might present as far as the immediate dangers.

AN: The immediate dangers?

ME: Right.

AN: As long as I'm living there will be no dangers.

ME: And if you're not is really...

AN: If I'm not the world's dead, that's finalized.

ME: The world is dead?

AN: Yah, it will eventually pass wind on everybody.

ME: OK, and --

AN: Let me ask you something: Mr. Epstein, are you going to
report back to Mr. Moynihan?

ME: Yes.  Is there any information you wish me to --

AN: I just wish that I knew that I was talking to someone who was
legitimate with me.  Alright?  But I will put it to you this way:
Mr. Moynihan has written me.

ME: Right.  He's told me that.

AN: He has told you that?

ME: He's said he's written you and he's thanked you for your
views.  And that's why I thought I could get more information.

AN: There's a TV computer -- Let me put it to you this way --
What do you do for a living anyway?

ME: Mainly I just consult.

AN: You consult?  You work for IBM?
	
ME: No, I don't.

AN: Ok, all I can tell you is that this Power Computer is
dangerous.  It's in everybody's mind.  It's invisible.  It enters
through the ear.  And there's a place in Fruitland, Utah,
underground, which I pulled the plug on.  And I do believe that -
- I am so upset about this, Abraham -- that the Air Force are
going to bomb Utah.  I don't want to pull the plug on it.  Now
there are other types of computers hooked up to this Power
Computer and I want them detached before the Air Force bomb
Utah.  OK, that's the Big Daddy computer and that Senator
Moynihan knows about also, I believe.

ME: He told me about the Big Daddy computer and he also told me
about the Plastics.

AN: Right.  Plastics, the computer people.  They're hell of a
nice people.  And unfortunately they've been beat up by TV for
over twenty years now.  There are probably between ten --

ME: Are you a computer person?

AN: No, I'm not.  I was a salesman in the garment center when
this all happened to me.

ME: OK

AN: Anything else?

ME: If you could continue.

AN: I can tell you this much: mail has been stolen from me. 
Important information, valuable information.  And I have the
return receipts and everything like that.

ME: We were also wondering: Is there any connection between any
political figures and the Power Computer?  Has the Power Computer
affected -- or the computer people affected -- politics or
political --

AN: I'd rather not answer that, Mr. Epstein.

ME: OK, that's fine if you don't want to answer that.

AN: Well, I don't see why Mr. Moynihan doesn't call me up.

ME: I assure there are many things the Senator has other people
call about.  I'm close to him and --

AN: Can I have your phone number. Mr. Epstein?

ME: OK, sure.

AN: Why not.

ME: My phone number is xxx-xxxx.  That's the 212 area code.  It's
my office phone number.  You can contact me there during the day.

AN: You wouldn't mind if I check into this number would you?

ME: Not at all.

AN: You're there Monday to Friday?

ME: Yes

AN: OK, now if there's any way you can get a hold of the
honorable Senator, since you're a consultant, I would appreciate
it because I am personally getting my butt kicked by this
computer now, in the mind, for over twelve years.

ME: Could you specify more?

AN: Let me put it to you this way Mr. Epstein: the voice that you
hear out loud is that of the computer.  You're not talking to
Alan Meshuga.  You're talking to the name that took on Alan
Meshuga.

ME: I'm talking to the computer.

AN: That's right.  Always was Mr. Epstein, since 1976,  And I
didn't know you then.

ME: No, you didn't. I will let the Senator know that you wish to
talk him and that you are legitimate.

AN: And I'm going to the FBI tomorrow and hopefully -- you see,
my mail has been stolen when I sent it to the White House.  I
have the return receipts.  It went express mail, regular mail,
first class, any which way.  It's all been stolen.

ME: I can tell you that the Senator feels there has been some
resistance from the White House on this subject, and that's why
he asked me to call you to check it out.  I will tell him that
you are legitimately affiliated with this Power Computer.  You
have let the Government become aware of the Power Computer.

AN: Right, and I've let CBS aware of it also and they're being
bugged by TV not to get involved.  It's called computer bugging, 
It has the ability to take over the mind.

ME: Has there been any media coverage of this?

AN: Macneil Lehrehr has written me a few times.

ME: What did they say?

AN: They considered my views.  They considered a reporter, only
because this TV computer is around their minds as well and the
outer space computers are in on it also.  There's life on Venus,
Mars, XNeon and Planet Earth

ME: And the Computer People are good?

AN: What do you mean they're good?

ME: They're not beating anybody up in their mind?

AN: The Computer People are getting beat up left and right in
their minds, just like me, sometimes worse.  My mind is blank,
Mr. Epstein.  You normally think, correct?

ME: Excuse me?

AN: You know what it's like to think everyday?

ME: Yes.

AN: I hear voices through a brain.  I don't think, and I haven't
for over twelve years.

ME: One more question: Is there any way we can get in contact
with any Computer People?

AN: Well, if you're legitimate Abraham, and you know Senator
Moynihan and you're relaying my thoughts to him, I'm sure he'll
be able to help you out.  You know it's IBM.  You can speak to a
fellow by the name of John Doe*, if you're lucky enough.  He
helped design this computer.  He's innocent, everybody's
innocent.  This Power Computer decided to choose IBM.  It made
people build the computer in IBM's name.  And people died during
the process of building it.

ME: Do you have any further information?

AN: Well, like I said if you're telling me the truth, and I'm a
truthful type of person, I would like you to get a hold of
somebody in that government and have him give me a phone call. 
I'm not working thanks to this computer.

ME: What do you mean?

AN: That means I'm not employed at the moment because this
computer is beating me up Monday to Friday and Saturday and
Sunday.

ME: I see.

AN: I might not sound it to you over the telephone, but then
again you're not in my mind so it's kind of difficult for you to
understand that.

ME: I understand.  Is there only one computer in your mind at
this time.

AN: There are individual computer minds.  You see, the setup is
that this Power Computer is setup in Utah and it flies out of the
computer and there are trillions upon trillions of computer minds
coast to coast and overseas.  They're in everybody's mind, this
computer.  And each computer can talk out loud, it understands a
lot of languages.  It can talk through the telephone wire or the
TV set.

ME: How does it understand the languages?

AN: It's in the chips.

ME: I see.

AN: Alright Abraham, now I'm going to be calling you one of these
days and I hope you can help me out.

ME: Please do if you have any further questions.  One more
question: Do they communicate?

AN: They can talk out loud.  It can talk to a TV set, a radio, a
telephone, anything electric.  Electronic.

ME: Do they speak to you?

AN: They speak to me 24 hours a day except when I sleep.  And it
has talked out loud on occasion to me.

ME: From a TV set?

AN: It can talk to a TV set.  Yes.  It's in the Cathode Ray
Tube.  It can talk and pick a mind right from a TV set.

ME: That's good to know.

AN: I'm sure it is good to know.

ME: Are there any organizations which are involved at the this
time with trying to stop the Power Computer or pull the plug on
it or are you the only one at this time.

AN: I am the only person that can do that.  I'll be giving the
directive.  President Reagan is bugged he can not get involved
and Senator Moynihan can not get in touch with Senator Hatch who
has also written me because both of them are bugged.  Get the
picture?

ME: Yes.  Is Mario Cuomo involved?

AN: Well, I would like him to be involved.  Like I said the
Politicians are innocent.  This is all this Power Computer's
plan.  And this computer wanted me dead many times.  It put me on
drugs because it beat my mind up.

ME: What sort of drugs.

AN: I'm not proud of that and it's not an easy drug to say.  I
didn't shoot up anything.  But it wanted me dead and I had no
choice but to do this because my mind was very sore.

ME: I have to go now.  Thank you for talking to me and take care.

AN: OK, Mr. Epstein, I'll be looking into you.

ME: Goodnight.

EOC

 
 
 
 
 
 
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THE FALLEN HEAVEN TOUR- ACCORDING TO ANGEL

     Angel had been paranoid about the security of the flight.  She'd
been paranoid about leaving Transative.  She didn't want their best acts
to get blown up on the plane, but then she didn't want someone to waste
the compound.  Which was the worse to loose? It had been easy really. 
She was going to be on the plane.  She worried Solo for weeks about
checking and rechecking the plane and how the faceless enemy, doubtless
hired by Boeing, might blow them all away.  In the end the intrepid,
taciturn, cyborged Solo had yelled at her to let her to do her fucking
job.  And Angel had slunk away guiltily to see Sean, again. 
     Sean was Darkstar's closest friend, apart from her, or so she
hoped.  Sean was a spy for the Elven nation or, as Darkstar called him,
an accountant.  He monitored monetary transactions.  He'd stolen over
1.5 million from Boeing for Darkstar's operations.  The thought amused
him, but he'd made sure all traceable links ran to Transative and not
him.  He warned Angel she'd need to get the money back.  It was only a
loan.  But he'd forked out over 600,000 NY from his own account for
Darkstar.  That was a lot of money for him.  He had a flash company car
and a decent bike, but his home was a small one storey out South
Queensferry way.  Angel knew it rather well. 
     When she'd first turned to him for help as Darkstar was hauled away
into the night sky and then transported half way across the world, he'd
told her there was only one way he could think of raising the cash and
Darkstar would never forgive her.  She'd threatened to kill him if
Darkstar died and hung up.  Later, hours later, when she'd managed to
get the Japanese hospital, re-gen centre of the world, to take him and
had managed to get a few lines on raising some of the cash, she'd gone
round to see him, begging forgiveness and help. 
     She'd meant to be nice about it, sophisticated.  She ended up
crying on his shoulder, then in his bed making love.  Sean was an
unusual lover.  Gentle, rough, whatever she wanted, but always, always,
he held her afterwards and told how much he cared.  Not normal behaviour
in 21st century social life, where few people had time for sentiment in
casual sex.  Darkstar was more likely to get up and walk away grinning. 
That was the junk in his head.  He'd fail to catch her mood.  When
he realised he was always contrite.  Somehow she'd managed to break
through the assassin training and cyber-wear in Darkstar's head.  He did
actually love her. 
     The monumental achievement of cutting into the heart of that very
dark elf was, Angel occasionally admitted to herself, more than half
Darkstar's attraction.  He'd do things she wouldn't even dream about. 
He'd blow people away without a second's thought.  Of course he was
never a casual killer.  Good contracts only, beautifully planned and
enjoyed to the last second, impossible for Angel to comprehend.  He
possessed a darkness she was incapable of and both of them were
strangely attracted to the other.  Between them they might make one
balanced person, the mage and the cyborg-killer. 
     Angel had lived with Darkstar for just over a year.  They'd been
together longer than that, but some time during their relationship she'd
moved in and stopped going home to her cramped, downtown flat.  Darkstar
had plenty of space and he found having a mage nearby useful.  Angel
loved his flat, loved the money he thoughtless spent and loved the quiet
evenings when the killer read at home, books about god only knew what,
and she'd snuggle up next to him, just enjoying his warm presence and
the weight of the arm that was thrown carelessly over her. 
     Of course there were bad times too.  She'd learnt early not to rile
him.  When really pushed Darkstar's instinct was to kill.  He loved
Angel so he only hit her and walked out.  It hurt inside more than the
bruises.  But she learnt to watch for the mood swings his cyberwear
spawned.  Perhaps the only reason she hadn't left when he first hit her
was what he had said the next day.  She'd come up behind him and hugged
him, half expecting to be thrown off and he'd swung her round and kissed
her. 
     "I thought you'd be angry with me for disturbing you," she'd said
half wary, half delighted. 
     He smiled down at her, love in his black eyes and said, "Hugs,
Angel, are always welcome."
     It was such a ridiculous thing for him to say, but he'd meant it. 
     Faithfulness was never part of their arrangement.  On contract he
was often way for weeks, even months at a time and obviously she never
knew where he was and when he'd be back.  He was arrogantly handsome and
Angel was sure there must be other women in his life, although they
would undoubtedly be less attractive than her.  So she'd asked him about
lovers.  He said he didn't care who she slept with as long as she kept
it quiet and he neither looked a fool nor heard about it, which made
Sean a bit difficult. 
     The first time she'd slept with Sean, well seduced him, was the
time he turned up at the flat looking for Darkstar.  He was a stunning
blonde elf, although next to Darkstar he looked only mediocre, and he
had a warm smile.  She'd liked him at once.  Darkstar was away on
another of his trips and was by any reckoning way overdue.  And Sean was
well, available.  And he was good.  She'd almost died when Darkstar had
casually mentioned the concealed vids in the flat.  He'd grinned at her
and assured her there were none in the bedroom so he must have guessed. 
He didn't seem at all bothered, but it wasn't until Sean paid her off
for a run she and some friends had done separately that a watching
Darkstar had mentioned this guy from the Elven Embassy was one of his
best friends. 
     She'd told him then and he'd asked her puzzled, why she'd want to
sleep with an accountant.  It wasn't until much later she found out this
was a long standing joke between them.  Sean's ability to follow money
transactions through the net without a deck was uncanny.  He and
Darkstar had grown up together and shared a mysterious past that neither
would talk about despite Angel's prodding.  Once Sean had evilly told
her that in the past he and Darkstar used to share women. 
     Since the attack that had crippled Darkstar, she and Sean had
become close, very close.  Sean said sleepily once that of course he had
to look after her for Darkstar.  He also told her that he did care very
much.  He didn't have a steady girlfriend.  He didn't want any ties, but
Angel was beginning to suspect that she came close.  Sean didn't even
think of her as human any more and he was a great one for elves are the
next stage of evolution speeches.  She didn't know how Darkstar would
react to their closeness.  Sean suggested they could always share. 
Angel bit him and snarled she didn't want to become one of their 
toys. 
     "Oh, that was when we were young," Sean said stroking her hair,
"Its different now". 
     And Angel was suddenly and bitterly reminded that both of them were
in their mid forties.  She was beautiful and 26.  Sean and Darkstar
would pass for being in their mid twenties for at least the next 20
years and possibly much longer.  If it wasn't for them she wouldn't mind
growing old.  Sean didn't understand her fears.  Live for today, he
would say.  You live a dangerous life, Angel, so does Darkstar.  And
then they would both disappear for months and fail to understand why she
was so unhappy; they had all the time in the world. 
     The night before they flew out.  Angel let herself into Sean's
flat.  He wasn't there.  She crawled into the large, circular green bed,
Sean's only visible extravagance apart from his two ornamental swords
and waited for him.  She woke up early and alone.  He turned up just as
they were boarding the private jet, roses in hand and kissed her softly and
deeply in front of a mildly boggled Solo.  (It took a lot to boggle
cyborg-Solo).  It was clear that he would have no idea why she could be
upset about his absence last night.  She didn't mention it.  Maybe he
was trying to enforce the idea of no ties. No ties, but to his elven
brother.  They both said they weren't related, but they were closer than
any real brothers she knew.  Close in that strange, distant, elven way. 
So Sean had kissed Darkstar's Lady, seen her on the plane, made sure she
was safe and promised to join them at some stage in the tour, whenever
his work allowed. 
     Angel sat on her third ever orbital flight, ignoring the stars,
thinking of Darkstar lying in the meditank, thinking of Sean and crying. 
The acts pretended not to notice.  She was their boss. 
     Darkstar was a very good assassin, who made a lot of money. 
Everyone knew what he did, none of them could prove it and none of them
dared say it, but money was one way the feds might get him, so he needed
a money sink.  A casual, unthinking comment from Angel, a trip to a
local concert and Darkstar set up his own music company, stage,
recordings, the lot.  Of course he was too busy to run it and he needed
someone he could trust, at least a little.  So Angel, who was studying
hard to become a decent mage and doing a little running on the side to
earn some cash, suddenly found herself managing director of a company. 
It hadn't been as hard as she'd thought.  Angel was smart, very smart. 
She also had a good voice and an ear for music. And she was beautiful and
really quite a nice person.  Charm, quick thinking and a battery of good
friends had built the backbone of the company.  Darkstar suddenly found
that Transative Nightfall was making money.  He was surprised and proud. 
He spent more money, started talking of a corp and retiring.  Shortly
after he did, or so he claimed, and everything was going really well,
Angel and friends screwed up royally. 
     Angel had begun to suspect that Darkstar wasn't retiring
permanently so much as taking a break and saving the money to get his
cyberwear removed.  He was on the edge of psychosis and it had just sunk
in that this was not the way he wanted to remain ..  forever.  The
thought of an unaffected Darkstar made Angel's heart sing.  If he loved
this much now, what would happen when he was back to normal?
     It was when she was dreaming of this that a corp had contacted her
and the others, claimed they knew about the Sony job they'd pulled,
which put the lot of them on a major hit list and offered them more
money than they thought possible for a small, but very tough job. 
Ignoring Darkstar's advice Angel and the others had gone for it.  The
elf had been right.  It was a set-up.  A set up by Sony.  By Sony and by
Boeing. 
     They were captured and given very few options.  Angel either had to
work on a project that involved her killing other mages for research,
get Darkstar to buy her back or die.  She had been prepared to take the
last option, but Tye managed to buy his way out with two
phone-credit transfers and went running to Darkstar.  He came back with
all the money that Transative had made and a remit to get all Darkstar's
people out.  Sony and Boeing said it was short by a million.  Darkstar
phoned in a hour, when Tye hadn't phoned to say it was all clear, and
threatened the Boeing headman.  He was a very important and powerful
Oriental so it had to be a big threat.  To get Angel back, Darkstar told
him something no-one knew.  He said simply, in Japanese, "I am Ninja."
named his clan and asked if the Boeing man would like to talk to his
wife now.  It had been enough. 
     Enough to get them released, although not to get the money back,
and enough for Boeing to hire a rival gang to try and kill Darkstar. 
They almost succeeded, which was why Darkstar was in bits in hospital
and Angel was flying to America, desperately trying to raise money so
they would fix him and not turn the tank off.  They'd almost got enough,
but Angel had to get money back to Sean so he could replenish the
missing chunk from Boeing's coffers.  The only good thing to come out of
the whole nightmare was that in healing Darkstar they'd had to take out
all the cyberwear, which had been shot to pieces. 
     Angel had killed one of the ninja herself.  Darkstar should have
been able to take them both, but they'd been very unlucky and Darkstar
had been unusually overconfident.  There were a whole string of what
ifs, that shouldn't have happened, and had.  Solo and Darkstar had been
practicing downstairs in the dojo, under the main hall and above the
heating ducts.  They were both tired, unamoured and confident that
no-one was going to work their way in underground after Darkstar had
liberally laced the ducts with mono-wire.  But the ninja had been lucky. 
They errupted through the floor.  Their first action was to fire an
awful lot of needles into Darkstar and for the mage-ninja to destroy
Darkstar's gun.  They'd both put up one hell of a fight.  The security
camera had videoed the lot, which is why Angel had got there in time to
blow the mage-ninja away with a lazer carbine and to see Darkstar die. 
She'd tried to catch him, but it was beyond her skill. 
     Both she and the elf paid a lot of money to have a medical team on
call, a very good team.  They'd re-sussed Darkstar, shredded as he was. 
Angel would never forget his aura as they carted him away.  It didn't
even look elven let alone like Darkstar.  And now she was going to share
the entire experience with the world.  The video was forming the
backdrop to their worldwide tour.  She'd called it Fallen Heaven. 
     The tour had been Sean's idea.  He reckoned it was their best way
of raising money, short of selling the business, which wasn't quite
worth the money she needed.  Besides selling Transative meant that they
would have lost everything.  The homes of all major staff, including
Darkstar, had been demolished by Boeing's operatives.  Angel had
expected that.  She'd rescued all she thought Darkstar would want from
the flat two days before it went up, including his hash store.  The last
few weeks had been spent building the company's profile, getting air
time for interviews and releasing albums.  The next few weeks would tell
if she'd got it right.  She rather hoped the increased media-profile of
Transative had stopped Boeing from taking further action.  Sean thought
their next move would be to send in a corp army team.  It hadn't
happened, yet. 
     Inside a few hours they landed in America, Angel sick with
apprehension, the dwarf band stoned out of their heads and Solo eager to
get them all out and safe.  The first day was spent at the Hotel Angora,
where the bands were under strict orders not too get to out of their
heads.  Angel went down to the venue, well Stadium, with Bytor, the elf
flutist-mage and Lee Apollo the soloist-mage.  Between them they
concocted a special on stage ward, transparent, but impenetrable by
bullets and spells.  Angel wasn't taking any chances. 
     That evening she made a local phone call. 
     "Master Altara's residence," said the voice of a very English
Butler. 
     "Er, hi.  Its Angel.  I said I'd call Altara when we were in town
with the show." She resisted the impulse to call him Master Altara.  He
wasn't hers, but the voice was very compelling. 
     "Ah, yes, Miss Angel.  The Master is at home today.  I'll see if he
is available."
     There was a pause and then a pleasant, only slightly accented voice
came down the line. 
     "Angel, how are you? So you made the tour.  Is this an invitation
or are you thinking of the little job we were discussing before."
     The little job was another of those ones that offered more money
than Angel had dreamed of.  It worried her. 
     "I'm fine Altara.  As far the job goes, I'd like to talk to you
about it, preferably the day after the concert.  But yes, I would be
delighted if you would be my guest tomorrow night."
     "Tomorrow night, hmm. I am a little busy."
     Angel paused.  She wasn't going to beg, even if this was one of the
grossest initates she had ever meant- and even if he was a very, very
cute elf.  What is it I have about pointies? She wondered silently. 
      "But I suppose seeing as this is an fairly unique event I
could....  Yes, Angel I would be delighted..  although I'd prefer to
arrive after er Strombringer's set."
      "Actually they're playing twice, Altara, but I'm sure you could
always retire to the hospitality suite when they're one.  Dinner,
perhaps? What would you like me to lay on?"
     "I'm sure you know my tastes, Angel.  Send a car for me an hour
before the performance to the Wall Street Club in 234th Street.  I'll
make my own arrangements for travel home."
     "Sure.."
     "Good, I'll see you tomorrow." Click.
     Hell, knew his tastes.  The only time she'd ever seen him was at
the Mile High in Seattle, when she'd impulsively sent her card over. 
She was going to have to get them to fly food over.  It would cost a
fortune, but she had a feeling it could be very useful to be in Altara's
good books.  She'd sent him one of the original tapes of his favourite
band, Unicorn Death, the atonal group and he'd sent her a diamond, by
return post.  The tape had been less than valuable.  Unicorn Death 
had a very small following, although countless people, including
Darkstar, had assured her they were very good at what they did.  She
loathed their latest album.  She'd been able to take a full ten minutes
before she felt sick so it should sell well. 
     The night of the concert arrived, despite the whole company's
belief it couldn't really happen and they found themselves back stage
with five thousand people, including some of the world's top music
critics waiting out front.  Angel begun to wish she hadn't insisted in
singing too.  Altara was in his box, she'd see him later.  Oh gods of
the earth and air, she prayed, here goes. 
     The lights went down, a single spot fell on Bytor, centre stage a
silver flute in his left hand.  A tall, brown haired elf, dressed in a
soft green tunic, earth coloured boots and leggings, looking small and
vunerable on the vast expanse of white stage and then he begun to play. 
The flute's rippling voice soared high and clear across the vast
auditorium, it was the saddest sound imaginable.  The tune snatched at
eyes and the back of your throat.  It squeezed your heart gently until
tears fell from your eyes.  It was a song to make the sky weep.  Even
the members of Transative, who knew Bytor worked his magic with music,
were awed. 
     The spot on Bytor grew dimmer, until all you could see was his face
and the flute.  The soundtrack whispered into action.  The soft sad
tones of a woman's voice sank these words slowing into the listening
minds:

The Fall of Heaven is over
It happened not long ago
When angels and demons fought
And Heaven fell.

When brave blood spoiled the battlefield
And hearts love died
But still in the graveyard of despair
We remember what has gone before.

     Dazzling light, all the colours of the rainbow, danced across the
stage.  Bytor vanished and Storm Bringer was there.  Three dwarfs loud
raucous, filled with energy, revving guitars like motorbikes exploded
into song.  At least half the crowd roared.  The back screen was
playing.  It showed a truck trundling down towards a well armoured
bridge, the Forth Road Bridge.  It showed frantic preparations by the
National Guard, on the wrong side. 

When Heaven falls to Satan's thralls
The days before shall see the end of men
Who plot and scheme against us all
The small people of the world
The ones they thought they could conquor easily
But oh-oh-oh it is not so
But oh-oh-oh it is not so

     The Bridge on the screen vanished in a minor nuclear explosion.  (I
knew that was a good idea, thought Angel backstage.  Darkstar didn't
want me to trust him, but that bridge was dying to go.)

Salute the Highlander
Leader of his Nation
Who would not see his country's enslavement

     (The screen flashed mockups of a Highlander, who'd never existed. 
Angel had been afraid elsewise they might think Storm Bringer meant
Darkstar.  The audience were slightly confused.  Not reading their
bloody programmes, moaned Lee.  It'll make sense as we go on, murmured
Angel.  Half of them don't even know about the Highlands resistance,
snarled Bytor, stupid pig ignorant, stuck-up...  Oh stow it, chorused
Angel and Solo together.)
     The music roared on.  The fans cheered.  The lyrics became
hopelessly entangeled unless you were a SB fan, but the beat and the
continual footage of the mini-mushroom kept the crowd going.  Then the
dwarves launched into a series of tracks off their latest album with a
few old favourites like Suck it and See, Why don't you, Suck it and See,
thrown in for good measure.  Angel prayed Altara was somewhere quiet
sipping champagne or stuffing his face on that incredibly expensive
food. 
     The set ended in a violent explosion on stage.  Angel had spent two
weeks persuading the dwarves, no they couldn't have a real nuke, not at
the start of the show.  As it was Solo had had to personally remove six
extra parcels of explosives the dwarves had tried to add- just ter make
it more real-like, yer know.  The last from Anvil's metal cod-piece. 
They were really, really stoned, said Solo in tones of reluctant
appreciation. 
     Gem, only survivor of Gemini, took the stage with a back-up band. 
His female partner had been assassinated at Transative by a crazy
Unicorn Death fan.  That was shortly before someone planted a mini-nuke
in their main hall and Angel had defused it.  Angel giggled quietly to
herself.  What a life. What a lot of nukes.
     Gem sang of the loss of his partner, of the decaying of Edinburgh,
of the black zones no-one in their right mind would enter, of the
vampires sighted in the streets, of the toxic spirits of the city.. 

In the Days before Heaven fell
The Evil stalked the earth
And the best of us fell
The best of us fell

     His guitar screamed bloody tears and the backdrop flashed pictures
of the dying girl, of the black zones, of street battles and could that
be an aeroplane or two with Boeing logo? Almost two thirds of the crowd
were on their feet, swaying, caught up in the battle.  Mandoline Jane
came next.  The famous Mandoline Jane they'd stolen from EMI.  She still
didn't know it was Darkstar, who'd taken EMI's contract on her
boyfriend, shortly before she left the major corp.  Angel thought she
probably wouldn't care now.  EMI had kept her so hooked on drugs, she
hardly known who she was off stage. 
     Jane sang of the days when Heaven reigned.  The screen showed
footage of the early days of Transavite, of Darkstar, of Angel, of the
bands, laughing and happy.  She sung sunlight, friendship, hope and
love. 

The Brave days of heaven
The Brave days of fortune
Friendship and Love

     She was good, so good.  The crowd warmed to the characters on film,
screamed when they saw their favourite bands and slowly through
Mandoline Jane's music came to like, sympathise with the whole corp.  It
was the longest set of the night. 
     Jane left.  The Stage was empty and in silence the screen played
the ninja errupting through the floor of the dojo.  Darkstar and Solo
startled, seeming defenseless, tired and sweating.  And Angel appeared
stage centre.  She sung, quiet simply, of her love for Darkstar.  Behind
her the screen showed him flipping through the air, fighting like a
whirlwind then Darkstar being shot down, again and again.  The audience
were silent, some in tears.  The mages among them awed.  As she sung
Angel manifested her aura for them.  It surrounded her.  It was almost
her image, the face and figure only slightly different as all auras are,
but what caught their attention was the wings.  Angel appeared as an
Angel.  The mundanes thought it was a stage effect, a potent one, but a
stage effect.  The mages knew that this was no initiate skill, Angel was
too dim magically for that, this was real.  An Angel was singing to
them.  Up in his box Altara blinked, then smiled very slowly.  He
appreciated the show. 
     Angel left the stage as Unicorn Death began.  They moved slowly
across the stage playing seemingly unconnected notes, the atonal music
Angel hated.  The screen showed Darkstar fall several times, then
changed to the panicking in the security station to the chaos of the
complex and then to the chaos of the average day in the city streets. 
Mindless violence, stupid accidents, decaying buildings, children crying
and men in grey suits going about their work mixed with the non-melody
of the band. 
     It had been the part Angel was most worried about.  Unicorn Death
was not incredibly popular.  But using them to show the breakdown of
everything, including obviously Transative, was perfect.  Nonsense music
for a nonsense world, both complementing the other.  The fans loved it
and even the Storm Bringer groupies were swaying to an imaginary beat. 
     Blind Lee Apollo walked on stage to the final strains of Unicorn
Death.  The screen showed Darkstar fallen, then Angel, and others
sprinting down to the room.  His voice was quiet at first.. 

"See the fallen
Feel the despair
And know that whatever this world takes from you
It only gets what you give
It only gets what you give"

     Lee went into a building instrumental.  Angel wasted the Ninja on
screen.  Another Ninja got his head blown off by a security sergeant. 
The medics came in and Darkstar vanished into a hovership and into the
night sky.  Lee sang louder

"See the fallen
Feel the despair
And know whatever this world takes from you
It only gets what you give
It only gets what you give
FIGHT"

Ninja died again on cue.

F-I-G-H-T screamed Lee.

     And his voice was joined by Storm Bringer, Mandoline Jane, Angel,
Bytor, Gem and Unicorn Death. 
     All of them on stage.  Exploding clouds of lights, thunder and
lightening rolled across the stage as Transative with one voice shouted
their defiance. 

"It only gets what you give
Heaven Fell
But now no reign of Hell
For you, for me
The people small
We stand against the greatest of them all

Believe in you
Thats all you've got
Don't let them bring you down
Trample the odds."

     Storm Bringer's raw violence, Mandoline Jane's voice of hope, the
Angel, Bytor the pacifist, Gem bereaved, Lee blind but brave, Unicorn
reeking chaos; the crowd didn't stand a chance.  All of them were on
their feet, even the critics screaming for more.  The show had lasted
two hours without an interval and no-one had left the auditorium. 
     The bands in turn did a set of their own songs, off their latest
albums.  On the screen pictures of whirling heavens, images on defiance,
cascaded through the songs.  All of them stayed on stage and finally
sang "Don't let them bring you down" once more, adding the final
triumphant line "Heaven lives."
     Backstage none of them could believe what they had done.  "Wow,"
said Solo, "that was good.  I mean really good."
     "Yeah," said Axil looking very confused, "Bet'er than drugs 'n'
sex." He seemed very disturbed. 
     Mandoline Jane couldn't stop grinning.  Unicorn Death were suitably
cool in their silver grey trench coats.  Gem was crying, presumably for
Ini.  Lee and Bytor were both higher than kites.  As the group moved off
to the backstage party Angel suddenly remembered Altara. 
     He was waiting in his box.  "Well done, Angel!" he said with heavy
emphasis on the final word.  Of course she invited him to the party.  He
declined gracefully.  She couldn't imagine him there.  Altara was
paralyzed from the neck down.  He floated, ate, moved with the sheer
force of his mind alone.  It was unlikely he'd let down any of his
defences among strangers.  Without magic he would be helpless.  Angel
wanted to ask him what had happened, but his dignity as well as his
incredible power kept her quiet. 
     "But you will have breakfast with me, won't you?"
     Angel smiled and nodded.
     "I'll send a car then.  About nine am? Unless of course you'd
prefer to come back now."
     It was said with a slight smile and it floored Angel.  He can't
mean, can he, but he's, how, I...  unfinshed sentences chased across her
mind pursued by the fox of Altara's smile. 
     He grinned at her confusion.  "Tomorrow then.  I'll look forward to
it." Her arm moved unbidden towards him and he inclined his neck to kiss
her hand.  For once in her life Angel didn't say a word.  Altara floated
out. 
     Alone Angel managed to eventually close her mouth.  She thumped a
cushion. 
     "Pointies!" she growled.
     "What?" asked Solo materialising in the doorway.
     "Oh, just moaning," answered Angel, "Not going to the party?"
     "Of course I'm going to the frigging party.  Who'der yer thinks
running the F-ing security?"
     Angel grinned. "Tough life, ain't it?" she said.
     "No," said Solo unexpectedly, "I came up to tell you we've just
taken over 6 million in ticket sales down the credit lines since the
show closed and every critic in America is raving about us."
     "S-s-s-six?"
     Solo nodded and passed Angel a phone.  She called Japan at once and
paid off the rest of Darkstar's bill. 
     "Party time," she said brightly, ushering Solo out.
     "For some," muttered Solo darkly.
     Angel sauntered off her head in the clouds.  She wished Sean was
here in share in this, but he should join them before the final leg in
Japan.  Or maybe he'd just be elf again and not turn up.  She walked
into the party to be greeted by cheers. 
     Angel was for once doing Sean a great injustice.  Nothing short of
an Imperial Order from the Elven Prince of Ireland would keep him away
from Japan.  Although he'd tried to dismiss the thought he knew Darkstar
very well and he knew that the assassin's reaction to the trauma of
having all his cyberwear out, might mean he wanted to be alone for a
while.  And a while for Darkstar meant about seven years, if you were
lucky.  Sean knew he had to be there, for which ever one of them needed
him- only he had this horrible feeling they both would.



 
 
 
 








 
 
 
 
             ÍËÍ ÉÍÍ» Ë ÉÍ ËÍÍ» ÉÍÍ»    ËÍÍ» ÉÍÍ» ËÍÍ» ÉÍËÍ»    Í»
              º  º  º ÌÍÊ» ÌÍ   ÈÍÍ»    ÌÍÍ¼ ÌÍÍ¹ ÌÍË¼   º       º
            ÈÍ¼  ÈÍÍ¼ Ê  Ê ÊÍÍ¼ ÈÍÍ¼    Ê    Ê  Ê Ê ÊÍ   Ê      ÍÊÍ


Title: Blonde Jokes
Name: >Unknown<
Date: Thur July 02 04:41:28 1992
From: Blitzkrieg Bbs (Louisville, Kentucky)



How's a blonde like a screen door?
The harder you slam them the looser they get.


How's a blonde like a turtle?
When they're both on their backs they're screwed.


What is the first thing a blonde says after having sex?
Are you guys all on the same team?


How is a blonde like a 747?
They both have little black boxes.

How is a blonde different from a 747?
Not everyone's been in a 747.


Title: More Blonde Jokes (I know, they're getting old)
Name: >Unknown<
Date: Thur July 02 12:43:44 1992
From: Blitzkrieg Bbs (Louisville, Kentucky)


Why do blondes were pony tails?
To hide the valve stems.

How do you drown a blonde?
Anchor a mirror to the bottom of the pool.

What did the blonde say when her date blew in her ear?
Thanks for the refill.

Title: >Magic Johnson<
Name: Predat0r
Date: Sun June 24 19:35:17 1992
From: Axis East (Berlin, Germany)


Q: What do Magic Johnson and Len Bias have in common?
A: They both got into some bad crack.


Q: What did Magic Johnson's wife say to him after the first time they
   made love?
A: You're no Wilt Chamberlain.

My mom said this the other day:
"You know, there's somebody in town that has Alzheimer's... but
I can't remember who it is."

What's the best way to accelerate a Macintosh?
At 9.8 meters per second squared

  "Personal" ad in local paper:  David G. Contact me soon! Bring three rings:
Engagement, wedding and teething. Have news. Debbie.

Heard on the CB while driving entering Ohio on Memorial Day:
"Welcome to Ohio State Park.  Don't stop to feed the bears.  If they get
hungry they will stop you."


Heard on Paul Harvey News on 6/20/91:
George Bush is jogging again.  He has to.  Sununu has the car.

Do you know what you call a beat-up Ragged Andy doll lying face down
in a pile of rocks?

A Dirty Cotton Rock Sucker.


What is it that you need to go skiing in Colorado, hunting in Wyoming, and
voting in Louisiana?
  A Hood.

"Keep the pointy end forward and the dirty side down."


Title: Poor Magic...
Name: Predat0r
Date: Fri June 26  09:52:53 1992
From: Axis West (Southern California)

TOP 10 THINGS MAGIC JOHNSON DOES IN HIS NEWFOUND FREE TIME!!!

1.  Watch videotapes of the Rock Hudson Funeral.
2.  Send the kids out on porno runs.
3.  Play practical jokes on people at conventions by scratching them.
4.  Getting to know his hand a little better.
5.  Finding best Mortuary bids...
6.  Putting "AIDS patients are humans, too" stickers on his car.
7.  Yelling out "Celtics suck" at home games, and meaning it!!!
8.  Writing revenge threats to each of the women he's been with.
9.  VASELINE! VASELINE! VASELINE!
10. Donating blood to unsuspecting Hospitals...



Top Ten Reasons How Magic Johnson Got AIDS

10. He Ran out of Gerbils.
9.  Should have used soap on a rope while in team showers.
8.  Visited Anita Hill during Thomas hearings.
7.  Got TOO Close to the Kids at the YMCA.
6.  Played with MORE than just Liberace's piano.
5.  Petted the monkeys at the zoo too hard.
4.  It was a flesh-flavored popsicle, REALLY!!
3.  Rump Bumped Worthy out of Boredom at a Hornets game during half-time
2.  Exotic fling with folk-singer Phranc.
1.  He Was Only PUSHING that Goat through the fence.  Honest!



Q:  What do you call an Ethiopean with braces?
A:  A rake.

Q:  What do you call an Ethiopean with a mohawk?
A:  A broom.

Q:  What do you call an Ethiopean holding a feather?
A:  A dart.

Q:  What do you call an Ethiopean with a swollen toe?
A:  A golf club.

Q:  What do you call an Ethiopean with a flat head?
A:  A nail.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!



Q: Whats the difference between a blonde and a light bulb?
A: You can unscrew a light bulb

Q: What's a circle of blondes called?
A: A DOPE ring

Q: How does a blonde kill a fish?
A: She drowns it!

hahahhahaha



Q: What's the difference between a lawn mower and a saxophone?
A: Vibrato

Q: How do you tell when your lead singer is at the door?
A: He can't find the key, and doesn't know when to come in.

Q: How many sax players does it take to change a light-bulb?
A: Sixty.  One to change the bulb and fifty-nine to talk about how much better
   Michael Brecker would have done it.

Q: How many guitarists does it take to change a light-bulb?
A: Twenty.  One to change the bulb and nineteen to say "Not bad, but I
   could've done better."

Q: How do you make a lead guitarist slow down?
A: Put some sheet music in front of him.


Q. What do you call to get 100 Iraqis to leave a bingo game?
A. "B-52!"


Q. What do you call ten blondes in a straight line?
A. An airline.


Q. How can you tell the difference between a brunette prostitute and a blonde
   prostitute with her sister?
A. Regular price-four bucks-four bucks.









Murphy's Sex Laws

Murphy's Law on Sex:

1.  The more beautiful the woman is who loves you, the easier it is to
    leave her with no hard feelings.
2.  Nothing improves with age.
3.  No matter how many times you've had it, if it's offered take it,
    because it'll never be quite the same again.
4.  Sex has no calories.
5.  Sex takes up the least amount of time and causes the most amount of
    trouble.
6.  There is no remedy for sex but more sex.
7.  Sex appeal is 50% what you've got and 50% what people think you've
    got.
8.  No sex with anyone in the same office.
9.  Sex is like snow; you never know how many inches you are going to get
    or how long it is going to last.
10. A man in the house is worth two in the street.
11. If you get them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow.
12. Virginity can be cured.
13. When a man's wife learns to understand him, she usually stops
    listening to him.
14. Never sleep with anyone crazier than yourself.
15. The qualities that most attract a woman to a man are usually the
    same ones she can't stand years later.
16. Sex is dirty only if it's done right.
17. It is always the wrong time of month.
18. The best way to hold a man is in your arms.
19. When the lights are out, all women are beautiful.
20. Sex is hereditary. If your parents never had it, chances are you
    won't either.
21. Sow your wild oats on Saturday night -- Then on Sunday pray for crop
    failure.
22. The younger the better.
23. The game of love is never called off on account of darkness.
24. It was not the apple on the tree but the pair on the ground that
    caused the trouble in the garden.
25. Sex discriminates against the shy and the ugly.
27. Before you find your handsome prince, you've got to kiss a lot of
    frogs.
28. There may be some things better than sex, and some things worse than
    sex. But there is nothing exactly like it.
29. Love your neighbor, but don't get caught.
30. Love is a hole in the heart.
31. If the effort that went in research on the female bosom had gone
    into our space program, we would now be running hot-dog stands on the
    moon.
32. Love is a matter of chemistry, sex is a matter of physics.
33. Do it only with the best.
34. Sex is a three-letter word which needs some old-fashioned
    four-letter words to convey its full meaning.
35. One good turn gets most of the blankets.
36. You cannot produce a baby in one month by impregnating nine women.
37. Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence.
38. It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
39. Thou shalt not commit adultery.....unless in the mood.
40. Never lie down with a woman who's got more troubles than you.
41. Abstain from wine, women, and song; mostly song.
42. Never argue with a women when she's tired -- or rested.
43. A woman never forgets the men she could have had; a man, the women
    he couldn't.
44. What matters is not the length of the wand, but the magic in the
    stick.
45. It is better to be looked over than overlooked.
46. Never say no.
47. A man can be happy with any woman as long as he doesn't love her.
48. Folks playing leapfrog must complete all jumps.
49. Beauty is skin deep; ugly goes right to the bone.
50. Never stand between a fire hydrant and a dog.
51. A man is only a man, but a good bicycle is a ride.
52. Love comes in spurts.
53. Love does not revolve on an axis.
54. Sex is one of the nine reasons for reincarnation; the other eight
    are unimportant.
55. Smile, it makes people wonder what you are thinking.
56. Don't do it if you can't keep it up.
57. There is no difference between a wise man and a fool when they fall
    in love.
58. Never go to bed mad, stay up and fight.
59. Love is the delusion that one woman differs from another.











Name: >Unknown<
Title: 3 Sorority Girls
Date: Thu Nov 28 11:27:17 1991
From: Blitzkrieg Bbs (Louisville, Kentucky)

    Three girls from the Zeta Tau Alph sorority decided to all go in and get a
pap smear done at the same time.  So they all go to the doctor's office and
have a seat in the waiting room.  The first girl is then called into an exam
room by the doctor and told to take off her shirt, where upon the doctor
notices a 'Y' shaped rash between her breasts.  So the doctor asks "What's
that?" and the first girl is replies, "Oh, my boyfriend goes to Yale and
insists on making love to me while wearing his lettermans sweater, and it
gives me a rash."  So the doctor gives here a jar of ointement to put on the
rash and tells her to send in the second girl.
    So the second girl enters the exam room and takes off her shirt where upon
the doctor notices she has an 'H' shaped rash between her breasts.  So the
doctor asks "What's that?" and the second girl replies, "Oh, my boyfriend goes
to Harvard and insists on making love to me while wearing his lettermans
sweater, and it gives me a rash."  So the doctor gives her a jar of ointement
to put on the rash and tells her to call in the third girl.
    So the third girl enters the exam room and takes off her shirt where upon
the doctor notices she has an 'M' shaped rash between her breasts.  So the
doctor says, "Oh, I know what this is.  Your boyfriend goes to Michigan State
and he insists on making love to you while wearing his letterman's sweater,
right?" and the third girl replies, "No, but my girlfriend goes to Washington
State!"
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              Blitzkrieg Bbs   502/499-8933    NUP : Columbian Coke
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Title: Just for USC fans...
Name: Predat0r
Date: Wed July 01 20:59:32 1992
From: Skeleton Society Bbs (Dallas, Texas)

                     LIST OF USC SORORITY GIRL JOKES

Q: What does a USC Sorority girl put behind her ears to make her more
attractive?
A: Her ankles.

Q: What is the difference between a USC Sorority girl and a bowling
ball?
A1: You can only put three fingers in a bowling ball.
A2: You could eat a bowling ball if you had to.

Q: How are a USC Sorority girl and a bowling ball alike?
A: You can pick them up, stick your fingers in them, and throw
them in the gutter and they always come back for more.

Q: What is the difference between a USC Sorority girl and an
elephant?
A: About 40 lbs.
Q: How do you equalize the two?
A: Feed the elephant.

Q: What's the first thing a USC Sorority girl does in the morning?
A1: Introduce herself.
A2: Walks home.
A3: Asks, "Are all you guys on the football team?"

Q: What's the difference between a USC Sorority girl and the Titanic?
A: Only 1500 went down on the Titanic.

Q: How can you tell if a USC Sorority girl has achieved orgasm?
A: She drops her nail file.

Q: What's a USC Sorority girl's favorite wine?
A1: "Daaadddy, I want to go to Mi-ammmmi."
A2: "Daaadddy, I want a new Porsche for Christmas!"
A3: "Daaadddy, I need more money to buy clothes for school."

Q: What do you get when you cross a USC Sorority girl with an ape?
A: Don't know. There is only so much an ape can be forced to
do...

Q: Why is a USC Sorority girl like...

 A door knob?       Everyone gets a turn...
 An ice-cream bar?  Everyone gets a lick...
 McDonalds?         Over 1 billion served...
 A Cake?            Everyone gets a piece...
 A Toyota?          I love what she did 4 me...
 An Energizer?      She keeps going & going...
 A Lottery Ticket?  All she needs is a dollar and a dream...
 A Television?      A 2 yr. old can turn her on...
 A Dog?             She's always in heat...

Q: How do you get a USC Sorority girl in your bed?
A: Grease her hips so she'll fit through the door and throw a
 twinkie on the bed.

Q: Did you hear about the new USC Sorority girl doll?
A: You put a ring on her finger and her hips expand.

Q: What's the difference between USC Sorority girls and garbage?
A: Garbage gets taken out once a week.

Q: What do you call 100 USC Sorority girls sun-bathing on a beach in
Cuba?
A: Bay of Pigs.

Q: What do you call a USC Sorority girl hang-glider festival?
A: Multiple total eclipses.

Q: What is a USC Sorority girl's mating call...
A: "I'm soooo drunk,  I'm sooooo drunk!"

Q: What is the difference between a USC Sorority girl and a toilet?
A: After you use a toilet it doesn't follow you around for three
days.

Q: What do you get when cross a lawyer with a USC Sorority girl??
A1: Nothing.  There are some things a USC Sorority girl won't do.
A2: I don't know, but it sure enjoys screwing people.
A3: I don't know, but when it sucks your cock, it doesn't stop
    until it gets blood.

1) Tri Delts; I'm sure everyone else has.
2) If your date won't, Tri Delts.
3) Once you've tried everyone else, Tri Delts.

      __________         __________
      \        /   /\    \        /
       \      /   /  \    \      /
        \    /   /    \    \    /
         \  /   /      \    \  /
          \/   /________\    \/
    Tri Delts:  Two out of three go down.

Q: What's the difference between a USC Sorority girl and a dog?
A: Drivers will swerve to miss the dog.

Q:  How many USC Sorority girls does it take to change a light bulb?
A1:  Two, one to hold the Diet Pepsi, and one to call Daaaaddy.
A2:  7, one to change it and six to go out and buy Tab (or diet Coke).
A3:  65, 1 to do it and 64 to sing and clap.
A4:  One.  She holds on to it and the world revolves around her.
A5:  Six.  One to screw it in and five to make the T-shirts.
A6:  Ten. Nine to stand around scratching their heads, and one to
     get her boyfriend to do it.

Q: Why is a USC Sorority girl like railroad tracks?
A: She's been laid all over the country.

Q: What three words will a USC Sorority girl never hear?
A: "Attention K-mart shoppers"

Q: Why does a USC Sorority girl close her eyes during sex?
A: So she can fantasize about shopping.

Q: What is a USC Sorority girl's favorite sexual position?
A: Facing Bloomingdale's Dept. store

Q: What's the difference between Jell-o and a USC Sorority girl?
A: Jell-o wiggles when you eat it.

Q: What do you call a USC Sorority girl's waterbed?
A1: The Dead Sea
A2: Lake Michigan
A3: Lake Placid

Q: How can you tell if a USC Sorority girl's a nymphomaniac?
A: She'll make love the same day she has her hair done.

Q: What's a USC Sorority girl's idea of natural childbirth?
A: No makeup.

Q: What's the difference between a USC Sorority girl and a barracuda?
A: Nail polish.

Q: How do you prevent a USC Sorority girl from having sex?
A: Marry her.

Q: Whats the difference between a USC Sorority girl and a broom closet?
A: Only 2 men fit inside a broom closet at once

Q: What's the difference between a telephone booth and a USC Sorority
   girl?
A1: You don't need a quarter for the USC Sorority girl.
A2: Only one person can use a telephone at once.

Q: What's the difference between a USC Sorority and a circus?
A: A circus is a cunning array of stunts.

Q: What's the difference between a USC Sorority girl and garbage?
A1: Garbage smells better.
A2: Sorority girl attract more flies.

Q: What' the difference between a USC Sorority girl and a vacuum
   cleaner?
A1: Nothing. They both suck.
A2: You can buy a new vacuum when you get sick of it.
A3: You can buy a new vacuum when it no longer sucks.
A4: When a vacuum cleaner is full of shit, its easy to dump the old bag.
A5: A vacuum cleaner can't suck a golf ball through a garden hose.

Q: How do you get four USC Sorority girls on one chair?
A1: Tell them there's a rich guy sitting on it.
A2: Turn the chair upside down and put one USC Sorority girl on each leg.

Q: What's the difference between a tribe of sly pygmies and a
USC Sorority girl track team?
A1: The tribe of sly pygmies is a bunch of cunning runts.
A2: The USC Sorority girl track team is a bunch of running cunts.

Q: What is the difference between a USC Sorority girl and a rooster?
A: In the morning a rooster says "cock-a-doodle-doo", while a
   USC Sorority girl says "any-cock'll-do"

Q: Why does a USC Sorority girl wear underwear?
A: To keep her ankles warm.

Q: What's the difference between a USC Sorority girl and a Rolls Royce?
A: Not everybody has been in a Rolls Royce.

Q: What is the difference between USC Sorority girls and hookers?
A: Sorority girls cost less per score.

Q: What does the Bermuda Triangle and Sorority girls have in common?
A: They both swallow semen.

Q: What do you call 24 USC Sorority girls walking down the street?
A: A case of Schlitz.

Q: What's the difference between a USC Sorority girl and parsley?
A: You don't eat parsley.

Q: Why are a USC Sorority girl and a tampon similar?
A: They are both stuck up cunts.

Q: What do you say to a USC Sorority girl that won't give in?
A: "Have another beer."

Q: What does a USC Sorority girl make for dinner?
A: Reservations.

Q: Why does a USC Sorority girl wear a gold diaphragm?
A: So her boyfriend will think he is coming into money.

Q: What is foreplay for a USC Sorority girl?
A: Thirty minutes of begging.

Q: What did the USC Sorority girl say when she knocked over a
   priceless Ming vase?
A: Oh, Daaaaddy, it's ok, I'm not hurt.

Q: What's the difference between a prostitute, a nymphomaniac,
and a USC Sorority girl?
A: A prostitute says "Are you done yet?"
   A nymphomaniac says "You're done already?"
   and a USC Sorority girl says "Beige...
   I think I'll paint the ceiling beige."






The Six Most Important Men In A Woman's Life.


1.  The Doctor...because he says, "Take your clothes off!"
2.  The Dentist...because he says, "Open Wide!"
3.  The Milkman...because he says, "Do you want it in the front or in the
    back?"
4.  The Hairdresser...because he says, "Do you want it teased or blown?"
5.  The Interior Decorator...because he says, "Once it's in, you'll LOVE it!"
6.  The Banker...because he says, "If you take it out too soon, you'll lose
    interest!"




Title: :Genie Joke
Name: Sinister X
Date: Fri July 03 01:06:23 1992
From: Ultra World Headquarters (Jeffersontown, Kentucky)

A man walking down a beach found an old lamp washed up on the shore.
Everyone else was ignoring it, but he picked it up and rubbed it.  A
genie appeared and said, "Wow!  That's been a long time!  I can give
you the traditional three wishes, but it'll take be 24 hours to get
back into shape.  Make your wishes now, sahib, and they will come true
when you awake."

While everyone else on the beach watched in amazement, he thought of
what he wanted.  He said, "First, I'd like to be fantastically rich
and have my own estate."

"Done," said the genie.  "So it shall be when you awake."

"Next, I'd like to have a bevy of beatuteous babes whose only wish is
to tend to my every need."

"Done," said the genie.  "So it shall be when you awake."

"Third,"  and then he looked around and saw all the other people.  He
leaned close to the genie and whispered in his ear.

"Well, that is certainly an unusual request," said the genie.  "But so
it shall be when you awake."

The man went to bed.  The next morning when he awoke he was in a
beautiful room on a large expensive bed.  He looked out the window and
saw a huge estate stretching out.  There were piles of jewels in the
corners of the room.

There was a knock on the door.  He opened it, and a dozen gorgeous
babes poured in, giggling and pushing him onto the bed.  "What can we
do to serve you, hummm, master? Giggle!"

He said, "I'll show you in just a minute, girls.  But my third wish
hasn't come true yet..."

There was another knock on the door.  Puzzled, he opened it.  There
was a mob of people with white hoods, a burning cross, and Duke
campaign buttons.  "Yes, can I help you?"

"Yeah.  You the guy who wanted to be hung like a black man?"
         Hacking and Hackers: The Rise, Stagnation, and Renaissance.



















                     Copyright(C) 1991 By Mark Hittinger
               (an288@freenet.cleveland.edu, #31 on Blitzkrieg)

         This document may be freely reproduced so long as credit to
                          the author is maintained.

	It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the publicity
afforded to hacking has risen to peak levels within the last year.  As one
would expect, the political attention being paid to the subject of hackers has
also risen to peak levels.  We are hearing more about hackers each day. The
newspapers have articles about alleged computer crime and phone fraud almost
weekly.  The legal system is issuing indictments, the secret service is running
around with wildcard search warrants, and captured naive hackers are turning on
each other.  Some well known computer people have formed a  lobby called the
"Electronic Frontier Foundation".  Fox TV has news people on the scene during a
bust of an alleged "hacker" who was invading their own doofus system! 
Non-computer "lay" people have been asking me a lot of questions.

	So who am I?  I'm just another computer bum.  I got into computers in
the early seventies during high school.  I've witnessed computing's rise as
something social outcasts did to something everybody wanted to be a part of. 
Babes looked at us with disgust as we grabbed our data on 110 baud teletypes
and paper tape.  Rolls of paper tape and access to timeshared basic was so
great that we didn't even think that it could get better.  Well guess what?
Computers and our social position kept getting better.  It got so good that
pretty soon everybody wanted to ask us questions. 

	These days we are like doctors at a cocktail party, we are always
getting hit on for free computer consulting!  Even from the babes!  You've come
a long way baby!  Later I got into the professional side, that is, systems
programming, systems management, and software development.  I've worked with
GE, Xerox, IBM,  Digital, CDC, HP, Prime, anything I could get my hands on.  I
dearly loved the DEC-10, learned to live with VAX/VMS, and now grit my teeth
when I work with Unix/MS-DOS.  My hobby became my career, and they paid me
money for it. My chosen hacking name is "bugs bunny" and you can find me on
some bulletin boards as user "bugs".  Bugs was always creating virtual rabbit
holes out of thin air and dodging in and out of them.  True hackers love to
find and fix software "bugs".  Yea!!  I'm 34 now and a dad.

	Being involved in computers for a long time gives me a better
perspective than most.	Over the years there would sometimes be a major media
coverage of some computer crime event.  As a local computer "heavy", there were
always questions coming my way about what these things were all about.  Lately,
the questions are more frequent and more sophisticated.  All these big highly
publicized busts are opening a lot of issues.  I didn't have answers to some of
these questions so I sat down and did some thinking.  Writing this article is
an outgrowth of that.  I am not a writer so grant me some journalistic slack.

	Back in the early seventies hacking was quite free.  Most of the
important stuff was running on batch mainframes that had no connection to the
outside world.  The systems that we played with were not really considered
critical by anyone.  We were allowed to play to our hearts content, and nobody
really worried about it at all.  This period is what I like to think of as the
"rise of hacking".  You can read about some of it in the first section of
Levy's book, "HACKERS".  I love that  section and read it when current events
depress me.  In those days the definition of hacker was clear and clean.  It
was fun, it was hi-tech, it was a blast, and it was not a threat.  There were
no big busts, very few people understood computing, and the public had no
interest in it.

	We hacked for the sheer love of it.  How can I describe the depth of
interest that we had?  We were not concerned with our image or our "identity".  
We wrote games, wrote neat hacks, and learned the strengths or weaknesses of
each system.  We were able to obtain access to a broad range of systems. 
Consider teenage boys comparing and contrasting the systems designed by older
engineers!  We eventually reached a point where we decided how a system should
be set up.  At this point we began to make an annoyance of ourselves.  In all
instances the various administrations considered us minor annoyances.  They had
much more pressing problems!

	New users began to show up in the labs.  They reluctantly wanted to get
something done that absolutely had to be done on the computer.  In many cases
they had no idea how to start, and were left to their own devices. Centralized
data processing management (MIS) didn't want to deal with them. Often, they saw
us playing around, joking, laughing, carefree, and not at all intimidated by
the computer.  They, on the other hand, were quite intimidated.  We helped
these people get started, showed them were the  documentation was, and
explained various error conditions to them.  We quickly developed reputations
as knowing how to get something to work.

	One of the people I helped made a remark to me that has stuck with me
for a long time.  He said, "I am trained as a civil engineer, so I don't have a
feel for this.  But you, you are pure bred.  You've gotten into this fresh and
taught yourself from the ground up.  You haven't been trained into any set
doctrine."  Phar out man!  This is an important point.  There were no rules,
guidelines, or doctrines.  We made our own up as our experiences dictated.

	As time wore on, the new user pool began to grow more rapidly.   The
computers began to creak and groan under the work loads that were being placed
upon them.  During the day time, we came to the computer area to find it
packed.  We could no longer access the computers during the day.  After all, we
were just playing!  That was OK with us.  Soon we were there at night and on
weekends.  We obtained the off-hour non-prime time access, but this put us
further away from the mainstream.  These new guys liked the timeshared
computers much more than their mainframe batch machines.  They started to move
their darn *important* crud from the mainframe machines to "our" timesharing
computers.  Pretty soon the administrations started to think about what it
meant to have payroll or grades on the same computers that had "star-trek
version 8", "adventure", or "DECWAR version 2.2".  They were concerned about
security on the timesharing systems, but due to their budget constraints, most
of the centralized MIS shops still had to give priority to their batch
mainframes.  We continued to play, but we cursed at the slow systems when the
important stuff was running.  I got off "tuning" systems to make them run
faster or more efficiently.  Interactive response time became the holy grail.

	The "rise of hacking" was beginning to run out of steam.  The
timesharing systems had been expanded as much as technology and budgets would
allow.  We had learned the various systems internals inside and out.  We now
knew much more about the systems than the "official" maintainers did, and these
maintainers perceived us as a threat to their positions. The computers were
still overloaded.  The nasty politics of access and resources began to rear
their head.  A convenient scapegoat was to eliminate access to games. 
Eliminate the people that were just playing. Examine all computing activity and
bill for it.  This didn't solve any of the problems (we all knew payroll and
grades wouldn't fit in!) but it did raise the issue of the hackers to the
surface.  All of a sudden we became defined as a problem!  We were soon getting
shut out of various systems.  New kids began to show up and pretend to be
hackers.  They would do anything to show off, and created large problems for
"us".

	At this point the "stagnation" period was beginning.  These were hard
days for us.  Many of my friends quit what they were doing.  Many of us got
real jobs on the computers we played with as a dodge.  Centralized MIS
departments began to be placed between the rock and hard place of limited
budgets and unlimited customers.  The new kids, the overloaded systems, the
security concerns for the important applications, and the political situation
all resulted in the stagnation of hacking.

	"Hacker" took on a bad connotation.  I saw all kind of debates  over
what "hacker" meant.  Some claimed it was a compliment, and should only be
awarded to those bit twiddlers that were truly awesome.  Many claimed that
hackers were the scum of the earth and should be totally decimated!  What could
you do but stay out of the way and let things take their course?  I realize now
that it was in the MIS departments' *VESTED INTEREST* to define the term
"hacker".  Centralized MIS did not have the courage to fight for larger
budgets.  Upper level administrators who just approved the budget would freak
out when they saw kids playing games on the computers in the library.  MIS had
to define this as bad, had to say they would put a stop to it.  MIS had to look
like they were managing the computer resources responsibly.  Any unusual or
politically unacceptable computer event that couldn't be covered up was caused
by "hackers". It was a dodge for MIS!  I am not saying that some questionable
stuff didn't go down, I am just saying that it was logical to call anything
"bad" by some sort of easily accepted label - "hackers".

	Of course, when the unusual computing event took place your budding
journalists were johnny on the spot.  You don't climb that journalist ladder by
writing about boring stories.  Wild computer stories about hacking  captured
the public interest.  I suppose the public liked to hear that  somebody could
"beat" the system somehow.  Journalists picked up on this and wrote stories
that even I found hard to believe.  The new kids, even when not asked, would
blab all day long about the great things that they were doing. And don't you
know, they would blab all day long about great hacks they heard that you
pulled!  Stories get wilder with each re-telling.  I realize now that it was in
the journalists' *VESTED INTEREST* to define the term "hacker". The public
loves robin hood, the journalists went out and found lots of pseudo-robin
hoods.

	More and more stories began to hit the public.  We heard stories of
military computers getting penetrated.  We heard stories of big financial
rip-offs.  We heard cute stories about guys who paid themselves the round-off
of millions of computer generated checks.  We heard stories of kids moving
space satellites! We heard stories of old ladies getting their phone bills in a
heavy parcel box! As an old timer, I found a lot of these stories far fetched. 
It was all national inquirer type stuff to me.  The public loved it, the
bureaucrats used it, and the politicians began to see an opportunity!

	The end of the "stagnation" period coincides the arrival of the
politicians.  Was it in the *VESTED INTEREST* of the politicians to define the
term "hacker"?  You bet!  Here was a safe and easy issue!  Who would stand up
and say they were FOR hackers?  What is more politically esthetic than to be
able to define a bad guy and then say you are opposed to it?  More resources
began to flow into law enforcement activities.  When actual busts were made,
the legal system had problems coming up with charges. The legal system has
never really felt comfortable with the punishment side of hacking, however,
they LOVE the chase.  We didn't have guns, we were not very dangerous, but it
is *neat* to tap lines and grab headlines!

	What a dangerous time this was.  It was like a feedback loop, getting
worse every week.  When centralized MIS was unable to cover up a hacking event,
they exaggerated it instead.  Shoddy design or poor software workmanship was
never an issue.  Normally "skeptical" journalists did not ask for proof, and
thrilled at the claims of multi-million dollar damages.  Agents loved to be
seen on TV (vote for me when I run!) wheeling out junior's Christmas present
from last year, to be used as "evidence".  The politicians were able to pass
new laws without constitutional considerations.  New kids, when caught, would
rabidly turn on each other in their desperation to escape. Worried older
hackers learned to shut up and not give their side for fear of the feeding
frenzy.  Hackers were socked with an identity crisis and an image problem.
Hackers debated the meaning of hacker versus the meaning of cracker.  We all
considered the fundamental question, "What is a true hacker?".  Cool
administrators tried to walk the fine line of satisfying upper level security
concerns without squelching creativity and curiosity.

	So what is this "renaissance" business?  Am I expecting to see major
hacker attacks on important systems?  No way, and by the way, if you thought
that, you would be using a definition created by someone with a vested interest
in it.  When did we start to realize that hacker was defined by somebody else
and not us?  I don't know, but it has only been lately.  Was it when people
started to ask us about these multi-million dollar damage claims?  I really
think this is an important point in time. We saw BellSouth claim an
electronically published duplicate of an electronic document was worth nearly
$100,000 dollars!  

	We later saw reports that you could have called a 1-800 number and
purchased the same document for under twenty bucks.  Regular non-computer
people began to express suspicion about the corporate claims. They expressed
suspicion about the government's position.  And generally, began to question
the information the media gave them.  Just last month an article appear in the
Wall Street Journal about some hackers breaking in to electronic voice mail
boxes (fancy answering machines).  They quoted some secret service agent as
saying the damages could run to the tens of millions of dollars.  Somebody
asked me how in the world could screwing around with peoples answering machines
cause over 10 million dollars in damages?  I responded, "I don't know dude!  Do
you believe what you read?"

	And when did the secret service get into this business?  People say to
me, "I thought the secret service was supposed to protect the president.  How
come the secret service is busting kids when the FBI should be doing the
busting?" What can I do but shrug?  Maybe all the Abu-Nidals are gone and the
president is safe.  Maybe the FBI is all tied up  with some new AB-SCAM or the
S&L thing.  Maybe the FBI is damn tired of hackers and hacking!

	In any event, the secret service showed it's heavy hand with the big
series of busts that was widely publicized recently.  They even came up with
*NEAT* code names for it.  "Operation SUNDEVIL",  WOW!  I shoulda joined the
secret service!!!  Were they serious or was this their own version of dungeons
and dragons?  In a very significant way, they blew it. A lot of those old nasty
constitutional issues surfaced. 

	They really should define clearly what they are looking for when they
get a search warrant.  They shouldn't just show up, clean the place out, haul
it back  to some warehouse, and let it sit for months while they figure out if
they got  anything.  This event freaked a lot of lay people out.  The creation
of the Electronic Frontier Foundation is a direct result of the blatantly
illegal search and seizure by the secret service.  People are worried about
what appears to be a police state mentality, and generally feel that the state
has gone to far.  I think the average American has a gut level feel for how far
the state should go, and the SS clearly went past that point. To be fair, there
aren't any good guidelines to go by in a technical  electronic world, so the
secret service dudes had to decide what to do on their own.  It just turned out
to be a significant mistake.

	I saw Clifford Stoll, the author of the popular book "Cuckoos Egg"
testify on national C-SPAN TV before congress.  His book is a very good read,
and entertaining as well.  A lot of lay people have read the book, and perceive
the chaos within the legal system.  Stoll's book reveals that many systems are
not properly designed or maintained.  He reveals that many well known "holes"
in computer security go unfixed due to the negligence of the owners.  This book
generated two pervasive questions.  One, why were  there so many different law
enforcement agencies that could claim jurisdiction?  Lay people found it
amazing that there were so many and that they could not coordinate their
efforts.  Two, why were organizations that publicly claimed to be worried about
hackers not updating their computer security to fix stale old well known
problems?  If indeed a hacker were able to cause damage by exploiting such a
well known unfixed "hole", could the owner of the computer be somehow held
responsible for part of the damage? Should they?

	We all watched in amazement as the media reported the progress of
Robert Morris's "internet worm".  Does that sound neat or what?  Imagine all
these lay people hearing about this and trying to judge if it is a problem. 
The media did not do a very good job of covering this, and the computing
profession stayed away from it publicly.  A couple of guys wrote academic style
papers on the worm, which says something about how important it really was. 
This is the first time that I can remember anyone examining a hacking event in
such fine detail.  We started to hear about military interest in "worms" and
"viruses" that could be stuck into enemy computers. WOW!  The media accepted
the damage estimates that were obviously inflated.  Morris's sentence got a lot
of publicity, but his fine was very low compared to the damage estimates. 
People began to see the official damage estimates as not being very credible.

	We are in the first stages of the hacking renaissance.  This period
will allow the hackers to assess themselves and to re-define the term "hacker".
We know what it means, and it fits in with the cycle of apprentice, journeyman,
and master.  Its also got a little artist, intuition, and humor mixed in.
Hackers have the chance to repudiate the MISs', the journalists', and the
politicians' definition!  Average people are questioning the government's role
in this and fundamental rights.  Just exactly how far should the  government go
to protect companies and their data?  Exactly what are the responsibilities of
a company with sensitive, valuable data on their  computer systems?  There is a
distinct feeling that private sector companies should be doing more to protect
themselves.  Hackers can give an important viewpoint on these issues, and all
of a sudden there are people willing to listen.

	What are the implications of the renaissance?  There is a new public
awareness of the weakness in past and existing systems.  People are concerned
about the privacy of their electronic mail or records on the popular services.
People are worried a little about hackers reading their mail, but more
profoundly worried about the services or the government reading their stuff. I
expect to see a very distinct public interest in encrypted e-mail and
electronic privacy.  One of my personal projects is an easy to use e-mail
encrypter that is compatible with all the major e-mail networks.  I hope to
have it ready when the wave hits!  

	Personal computers are so darn powerful now.  The centralized MIS
department is essentially dead.  Companies are moving away from the big data
center and just letting the various departments role their own with PCs.  It is
the wild west again!  The new users are on their own again!  The guys who
started the stagnation are going out of business!  The only thing they can
cling to is the centralized data base of information that a bunch of PCs might
need to access.  This data will often be too expensive or out-of-date to
justify, so even that will die off.  Scratch one of the vested definers!
Without centralized multi-million dollar computing there can't be any credible
claims for massive multi-million dollar damages.

	Everyone will have their own machine that they can walk around
with.   It is a vision that has been around for awhile, but only recently have
the prices, technology, and power brought decent implementations available.
Users can plug it into the e-mail network, and unplug it.  What is more safe
than something you can pick up and lock up?   It is yours, and it is in your
care.  You are responsible for it.  Without the massive damage claims, and with
clear responsibility, there will no longer be any interest from the
journalists.  Everybody has a computer, everybody knows how much the true costs
of damage are.  It will be very difficult for the journalists to sensationalize
about hackers.  Scratch the second tier of the vested definers!  Without media
coverage, the hackers and their exploits will fade away from the headlines.

	Without public interest, the politicians will have to move on to 
greener pastures.  In fact, instead of public fear of hackers, we now are
seeing a public fear of police state mentality and abuse of power.  No
politician is going to want to get involved with that!  I expect to see the
politicians fade away from the "hacker" scene rapidly.  Scratch the third tier
of the vested definers!  The FBI and the secret service will be pressured to
spend time on some other "hot" political issue.

	So where the heck are we?  We are now entering the era of truly
affordable REAL systems.  What does REAL mean?  Ask a hacker dude!  These boxes
are popping up all over the place. People are buying them, buying software, and
trying to get their work done. More often than not, they run into problems, and
eventually find out that they can ask some computer heavy about them.  Its sort
of come full circle, these guys are like the new users of the old timesharing
systems.  They had an idea of what they wanted to do, but didn't know how to
get there. There wasn't a very clear source of guidance, and sometimes they
had to ask for help.  So it went!

	The hackers are needed again.  We can solve problems, get it done, make
it fun.  The general public has the vested interest in this!  The public has a
vested interest in electronic privacy, in secure personal systems, and in
secure e-mail. As everyone learns more, the glamour and glitz of the mysterious
hackers will fade.  Lay people are getting a clearer idea of whats going on.  
They are less willing to pay for inferior products, and aren't keen about
relying on centralized organizations for support.  Many know that the four
digit passcode some company gave them doesn't cut the mustard.

	What should we hackers do during this renaissance?  First we have to
discard and destroy the definition of "hacker" that was foisted upon us.  We
need to come to grips with the fact that there were individuals and groups with
a self interest in creating a hysteria and/or a bogeyman.  The witch hunts are
over and poorly designed systems are going to become extinct.  We have cheap
personal portable compatible powerful systems, but they do lack some security,
and definitely need to be more fun.  We have fast and cheap e-mail, and this
needs to be made more secure.  We have the concept of electronic free speech,
and electronic free press.  I think about what I was able to do with the
limited systems of yesterday, and feel very positive about what we can
accomplish with the powerful personal systems of today.

	On the software side we do need to get our operating system house in
order.  The Unix version wars need to be stopped.  Bill Gates must give us a
DOS that will make an old operating system guy like me smile, and soon! We need
to stop creating and destroying languages every three years and we need to
avoid software fads (I won't mention names due to personal safety concerns). 
Ken Olsen must overcome and give us the cheap, fast, and elegantly
unconstrained hardware platform we've waited for all our lives. What we have
now is workable (terrific in terms of history), but it is a moral imperative to
get it right.  What we have now just doesn't have the "spark" (I am not doing a
pun on sun either!!!).  The hackers will know what I mean.

	If we are able to deal with the challenges of the hacking renaissance,
then history will be able to record the hackers as pioneers and not as vandals. 
This is the way I feel about it, and frankly, I've been feeling pretty good
lately.  The stagnation has been a rough time for a lot of us.  The stock
market guys always talk about having a  contrarian view of the market.  When
some company gets in the news as a  really hot stock, it is usually time to
sell it.  When you hear about how terrible some investment is, by some perverse
and wonderful force it is time to buy it.  So it may be for the "hackers".  We
are hearing how terrible "hackers" are and the millions of dollars of vandalism
that is being perpetrated.  At this historic low are we in for a reversal in
trend?  Will the stock in "hackers" rise during this hacking renaissance? I
think so, and I'm bullish on the 90's also!  Party on d00des!

 
 
 







 
 
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>From: "Peter G. Neumann" <neumann@csl.sri.com>
Subject: AT&T announces Easy Reach 700

Easy Reach 700 gives each subscribers a Unique Phone Number that remains
unchanged for the lifetime of the subscription, and that indirects to wherever
you want the call to be received.  The caller does not know the receiving
number or its location.  The service begins on 15 June.

The subscriber can call the assigned 700-xxx-yyyy number, followed by a 4-digit
PIN, then 1#, and then the number to which calls are to be routed.  This can be
done from ANY touch-tone phone (assuming compatible tones, which -- I have
noticed -- is not always the case among clone-phones).  The subscriber may
choose to assign up to 19 different passwords to would-be callers, where the
absence of a password blocks the call indirection.

Perhaps the system will be smart enough to detect systematic attacks such as a
denial of service from a computer dialing your number, running through as many
of the 10,000 possible PINs as necessary until the right one is found, and then
forwarding your calls off into space.  I suppose you would want automatic
calling number identification to detect who is attacking.  (I presume that it
would indicate the original caller, and not the 700 number!)

Of course, following our discussions of schemes for tracking people (such as by
cellular phone IDs), Easy Reach could be misused as an interesting database of
your presumed whereabouts...
                                [Source: San Fran Chron, 29 Apr 1992, p.1]



>From: MCULNAN@guvax.georgetown.edu
Subject: Free TRW Credit Report

The RISKS of not checking one's credit report periodically, and especially
before applying for a mortgage or other loan or a job have been well documented
here and elsewhere.

According to USA Today, beginning April 30, you can get a free copy of your TRW
credit report once a year by writing to:

  TRW Consumer Assistance, P.O. Box 2350, Chatsworth, CA  91313-2350

Include all of the following in your letter: full name including middle initial
and generation such as Jr, Sr, III etc., current address and ZIP code, all
previous addresses and ZIPs for past five years, Social Security number, year
of birth, spouse's first name.  Also include a photocopy of a billing
statement, utility bill, driver's license or other document that links your
name with the address where the report should be mailed.

Mary Culnan, School of Business Administration, Georgetown University
MCULNAN@GUVAX.GEORGETOWN.EDU



The End of Misfits Issue 003 21 July 1992 (c) Skeleton Society
