ßßß ßßß ßß ßßßßß ßßßßßß ßß ßßßßßß ßßßßß ßßßß ßßßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßßßß ßß ßß ßßßß ßßßßß ßß ßß ßßßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßßßßß ßß ßß ßß ßßßßß ßß ßßßßß ßßßßß ßß ßß ßßßßßß ßßßßßß ßßßßßß ßßßßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßßß ßß ßßß ßß ßß ßßßß ßßßß ßß ßß ßßßßß ßß ß ßß ßß ß ßß ßßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßßß ßß ßßß ßß ßß ßß ßßßßß ßßßßß ßßßßß ßßßßßß ßßßßßß ßßßßßß ßßßßß ßßßÛ ßÛ ßÛß Û Û Û Û Û ßÛ ÛßßÛ ÛßßÛ ßßßÛ Ûßßß Û Û Û Û Û ßßßÛ Û ßßßÛ ßßßÛ Ûßßß 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 ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ Û Û Û Û Ü Ü ÜÜÜÜ ÛÜÜÜÜÜÛ ÜÜÜÜ Ü Ü Ü ÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜ Û ÛÜÜÛ ÛÜ Û Û Û Û Û Û ÛÜ ÛÜÜÛ Û Û Û ÛÜÜÜ Û ÛÜÜÛ ÛÜÛÜÛ ÛÜÜÜ Û ÛÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ Ü Ü ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ Û Û Û Û Û Û Û Û Û Û Û Û Û Û Û Û Û Û Û Û ÛÜÜÜÜÜÛ Û Û Û ÛÜÜ ÛÜÜÜÜÜÛ Û Û Û Û Û Û Û Û Û Û Û Û Û ÛÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÛÜÜÜÜÜÛ Û Û Û Û ÛÜÜÜÜÜÛ Û ÛÜÜÜÜÜÜ Û ÛÜÜ [ 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 ÖÄÄÄÄÄ· ÖÄ· ÖÄ· ÖÄÄÄÄÄÄ· ÖÄÄÄÄÄ· ÖÄÄÄÄÄÄ· ÖÄÄÄÄÄ· ÖÄ· ÖÄ· ÖÄÄÄÄ·ÖÄ· ÖÄ·ÖÄÄÄ· º ÖÄ· º º º º º Ó· ÖÄ· º º ÖÄÄĽ º ÖÄÄ· º º ÖÄ· º º º º º º Ö· ºº º º ºº ÖĽ º º ÓĽ º ÓĽ º º ÓĽ º º ÓÄ· º ÓÄĽ º º ÓĽ º º º º º º ºº ºº º º Ó½ ÓÄ· º º ÖÄ· ÓÄÄÄ· º º ÖÄ· º º ÖĽ º ÖÄ· Ö½ º ÖÄÄĽ º º º º º ºº ºº º º ÖÄÄ· º º ÓĽ º ÖÄÄĽ º Ö½ ÓĽ º º ÓÄÄÄ· º º º Ó· º º º ÓĽ º º ºº Ó½ º º º º º ÓÄÄÄÄĽ ÓÄÄÄÄĽ ÓÄÄÄÄÄĽ ÓÄÄÄÄĽ ÓĽ ÓÄĽ ÓĽ ÓÄÄÄÄĽ ÓĽÓÄÄÄĽ ÓĽ ÓĽ 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» ÌÍͼ ÌÍ͹ ÌÍ˼ º º Èͼ ÈÍͼ Ê Ê ÊÍͼ ÈÍͼ 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!" ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ Blitzkrieg Bbs 502/499-8933 NUP : Columbian Coke ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ 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! ±±±±±±Ü ±±±±±±Ü ±±±±±Ü±±Ü ±±±±±±±Ü ±±±±±±Ü ±±±±±±±±Ü ±±±±±±Ü ±±Ûß±±Û ±±Ûß±±Û ±±Û±±Û±±Û ±±Ûß±±Û ±±Ûß±±Û ±±Û±±Û±±Û ±±Ûßßßß ±±±±±±Û ±±±±±±Û ±±Û±±Û±±Û ±±Û ±±Û ±±Û ±±Û ±±Û±±Û±±Û ±±±±±±Ü ±±Û±±Ûß ±±Ûß±±Û ±±Û±±Û±±Û ±±Û ±±Û ±±Û ±±Û ±±Û ßß±±Û ßßß±±Û ±±Û ±±Û ±±Û ±±Û ±±Û±±±±±Û ±±±±±±±Û ±±±±±±Û ±±Û ±±Û ±±±±±±Û ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßßßßß ßßßßßßß ßßßßßß ßß ßß ßßßßßß >From: "Peter G. Neumann" 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