Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!pt.cs.cmu.edu!andrew.cmu.edu!<UNAUTHENTICATED>+
From: thyst@rush.cc.cmu.edu (Jeffrey Alexander)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Some ramblings
Message-ID: <9003292120.AA05832@rush.cc.cmu.edu>
Date: 29 Mar 90 21:20:50 GMT
Organization: Carnegie Mellon, Pittsburgh, PA
Lines: 101


     During one of the rapid-fire leavings and enterings, a raven flies
in before the door has a chance to shut.  It comes in fast and steeply
banked to fit through the opening, and as such has a devil of a time
levelling off to avoid becoming embedded in a table (or worse, a
customer) -- but practice seems to be paying off.  It drains the last
of its velocity by arcing to the rafters, where it perches and begins
to preen wing feathers.  It's over a minute before the door opens again
and 'Thyst walks in, casting a glance, more exasperated than stern, but
mostly just a glance, at his avian companion above.  He walks straight
to the bar, in no hurry.

     "Two iced teas, Mike.  Just lemon."  Two dollar bills from a plain
wallet are exchanged for the tall glasses.  The customer takes one
glass, turns, and holds it high.  "While we're on the topics of Spring
and poems, I just thought I'd be the first to recite the classic spring
poem of all time."  He takes a sip to wet his throat as the Callahanians
give him their attention.


			 THE SPRING POEM

			Spring has sprung,
			 Da grass is ris.
			I wonder where
			 Da birdies is?


     There is some awkward silence as a few patrons, unfamiliar with the
famous poem, are surprised at its sheer conciseness.  The poet gives a
short "Well, *I* like it" shrug to the audience, smiles for no reason,
picks up the other drink, and carries both glasses to an empty table.
Quandary flaps down and lands on the tabletop, watching and waiting as
his human companion pulls a thin paper straw from a deep shirt pocket
and places it in the bird's glass.  It begins sipping through it as the
human picks his glass up again and begins to wander from table to table.

     "I've seen a lot of newcomers introduce themselves, at a pretty
hefty pace, over the past week or two.  Undoubtedly we all have, actually.
Just let me also say 'Welcome to Callahan's', to you, and also to those
who have come in without commotion, just to sit and listen.  Things have
been happening fast of late, and I ask that you not let it discourage
or intimidate any of you.  Speak in good time, when you feel ready, and
if you think your voice might not be heard above the babble -- well,
this place just doesn't seem to work >that< way."

     He looks about the place then, and notices a pronounced increase
in feline activity.  He tries to take count, but the things just seem
to be everywhere.  Wandering to the bar, he turns to address the tall
redhead behind it.  "Mike, what's with all the fur?  Have _Feline_sapiens_
finally evolved, or is this just the latest fashion craze?"

     "Don't know, myself.  Everyone just started bringing 'em in.  Think
there might be a problem with your bird over there?"

     "I doubt it.  If there's any cat Quandary starts not taking a
liking to, that cat'll be the first to know.  He should get along
fine, though."  He takes a sip of his tea and continues chatting with
Mike.  "I'll admit that there's -- *some*thing -- alluring about them.
But I think maybe people personify them too much, project too many
human virtues, like independence and self-centeredness, or 'the
predatory instinct', onto them."  Mike hums a vague, absent-minded
affirmative as he cleans a few glasses behind the bar.  'Thyst doesn't
notice.  "They act that way because that's just the way they're made,
right?  They're not really independent because they can't be anything
BUT independent.  And as for being predators...well, I can see where
today's society would glorify that trait as being advantageous, but..."
He takes a sip and begins an anecdote.  "My housemate from two years ago
once found a praying mantis in his room.  Being terrified of anything
that weighed more than he did (he was VERY skinny), he asked me to get
it out.  Well, I went in and picked it up, and I was looking at it, and
it was looking at me, and we both seemed to be genuinly learning from
the experience, when the thing must have caught a glimpse of the room
light reflected in my glasses, because it jumped at my face.  When I
thought about it later, I realized how pitiful the whole situation was.
The thing had no semblence of intelligence whatsoever.  Its "mind" was
just an endless loop, findfood killfood eatfood.  No variation, no off-
moments, nothing.  Just an absolutely rigid behavior pattern.  Not
something to admire in a person, and yet how many people did I know who
yearned for it?"

     He takes a sip and turns back to Mike.  "I just hope no one is
yearning for it here, of all places.  But there seems to be a good deal
of cat-worship starting up.  If people were cats, Mike," which brings
the barkeep's attention up from his glasses, "society would be a lot
more efficient, but it would be a lot less courteous, and a lot less
friendly.  Hell, no way would you have a job, at least not this one!
No, the people here are more like . . ."  As he searches for the right
animal, Mike watches him, curious.

     ". . . more like humans, actually."  Mike just looks at him with a
"why'd it take you so long to figure THAT out?" grin on his face.
'Thyst just stares at Mike for awhile, then looks down at the counter-
top, matches Mike's grin and mouths the word "damn".


+--\  __  /--------------------------+----------------------------------+
|   \/  \/   thyst@rush.cc.cmu.edu   |  "The point of the journey       |
|   < <> >   (ja1r@andrew.cmu.edu)   |___Is not to arrive."_____________|
|    \__/                            |  "I prefer to remain anomalous." |
+------------------------------------+----------------------------------+
Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!brutus.cs.uiuc.edu!psuvax1!psuvm!emd101
From: EMD101@psuvm.psu.edu
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Re: Somehow, I wonder . . .
Message-ID: <90088.152019EMD101@psuvm.psu.edu>
Date: 29 Mar 90 20:20:19 GMT
References: <8767@pogo.WV.TEK.COM>
Distribution: na
Organization: Penn State University
Lines: 17

In article <8767@pogo.WV.TEK.COM>, andyd@pogo.WV.TEK.COM (Shannalyralythia):
>
>     "A number of things cross my mind to say right now, but one question
>first.  Does anyone" staring fixedly at a large blue blob in her drink, then
>pulling it out and putting it next to the fire, "Know *why* warm fuzzies like
>to climb into drinks - in the process, becoming cold soggies?  We seem to
>have an epidemic here."
>    "Ah, well.  To good luck and drinks that don't purr."
>        <<*CRASH*>>

Oktave examines her immediate surroundings for fuzzies.  "Maybe we should
beam them all over to the Klingons."


>| Shannalyralythia  |
>| Using the account |*If you love something, let it go. If it comes back
>|_of_Andy_Davidson__|*to you, it's yours; if it doesn't, it never was.
Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!brutus.cs.uiuc.edu!psuvax1!psuvm!cunyvm!r84si
From: R84SI@CUNYVM
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Re: anger and what
Message-ID: <90088.113319R84SI@CUNYVM.BITNET>
Date: 29 Mar 90 16:33:19 GMT
References: <9003271419.AA12102@fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM>
Organization: City University of New York/ University Computer Center
Lines: 40


  From one of the n-shadows steps a figure dressed in shades of black
and just under six feet tall, with brown hair that fades
 toward red.  The single spot of color on him is a bright pink button.
 It reads, "Too bad ignorance isn't painful".  Stepping up to the bar,
 he leans upon it and stares about him with a sense of wonder that seem a bit
 rusty.   He lays a crumpled bill upon the countertop.
            " Mike, a shot of applejack. Please. "
lass back on the bar.
            " Sorry, Can't think of an appropriate Toast yet.
                  Maybe Later."
  He turns to Jilara, and speaks in a regretful tone,
            " I have been listening {lurking} for awhile and much of what you
say sounds like a echo of myself.  Or at least this part of me, my other selves
will be arriving soon |-).  Although my control has gotten better over the
years, if someone finds the right 'button' to push, I can and often do
 'fade to black'.  My 'Monster in the Basement' steps to the front and takes
over, when this happens most of my ego just sits back and watches the action.
 I remember someone who was the pushy type.  i.e.  They keep shoving you until
 you do something that will let them think that you started "it".
   This, at that time, got to me quite easily and I Got quite Angry.
   From my slightly fuzzy memories that I backed up until I hit a car,
     turned,  and simply ripped the bumper off the car ansd proceeded to hit
    him about the head until he dropped the switchblade in his hand.

       Now, that was anger unleashed for the purpose of Survival, but all
  too often i still 'fade to black' when no actual threat is in the area.g

                           This Worries Me.


Any Comments.?

               By the way,
                             I still do hold the nickname.
.nightshade.

 Sorry Duty Calls    yours in shadow and light,
                                                  Nightshade
R84SI@cunyvm.bitnet
Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!samsung!uunet!decwrl!ucbvax!FSDCUPT.CSD.MOT.COM!jane
From: jane@FSDCUPT.CSD.MOT.COM (Jane Beckman x4030)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: A bout?!
Message-ID: <9003291350.AA04073@fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM>
Date: 29 Mar 90 21:50:07 GMT
Sender: daemon@ucbvax.BERKELEY.EDU
Lines: 22

Jilara grins.  "Always happy to engage in some pointed repartee.  Even of 
the virtual variety."  Virtual gear has advantages, too, it seems.  "Funny, 
this thing is a lot lighter in this universe," she says, pulling out a 
surcoat made of tiny nickel-steel plates.  "In my universe, it weighs about 
twenty-five pounds.  Here, it's more like mithril.  Okay, it's not standard 
gear, but I prefer it."  She pulls it over her head and wiggles to settle 
it over her black doublet.  (Yes, Jilara habitually wears dark clothing, too.)
"Another advantage of this universe..."  She puts down her French foil and 
pulls out one styled after a Spanish rapier.  Six inches of blade is missing, 
broken off.  She sighs heavily.  "My favorite weapon, and a dishonorable 
varlet who thinks he's Errol Flynn broke it.  Berserked out and side-whipped 
the blade..."  She sighs again, runs her closed hand up the blade, and the 
six inches at the end reappear.  Picking up the remains of her drink and 
tucking a mask under her arm, she walks to the chalk line and finishes it.
   "To Basil Rathbone!" she says, raising the glass to her eyes for a moment, 
then hurling it into the fireplace.  For a moment she chuckles, looks up 
at the ceiling, shakes her head.  "Naaah, not here.  Yet."
  She turns back, putting on her mask.  "Merci beaucoup, Monsieur," she 
says, saluting.  "Engagee nous!"

  ---Jilara the Exile  jane%fsdcupt.csd@urbana.mcd.mot.com
   My email went to Urbana, but all I got was this stupid router!
Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!shelby!lindy!news
From: GE.LJB@forsythe.stanford.edu (Louis J Bookbinder)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: axing for help
Message-ID: <8735@lindy.Stanford.EDU>
Date: 29 Mar 90 21:30:32 GMT
Sender: news@lindy.Stanford.EDU (News Service)
Lines: 103

Clank, clank

Nick stumbles back in with an armload of firewood and his two buckets.
It has been a busy night! Glass shards everywhere, and still that red
puddle on the floor (Cranberry, eh?). The usual assortment of mages,
cats, will-o-wisps, and shape-shifters cascades in and out of the O(n)
corners and fractal shaped tables. The strong, but introspective sound
of bagpipes (introspective!? My, stars!) comes down from the roof.

How come Callahan's has no phone?

Nick ducks around the hanging tails (there are all KINDS of tales
hanging up in here!) of two large cats conversing in quiet hisses and
growls in the rafters. He drops the buckets (CLASH! BANG!) and then the
wood (KUBLUBLUBTATOOP), and shifts his mop off his shoulder and leans it
against the hearth. Quickly he sweeps up the worst of the glass, getting
almost all of it out of the red puddle. Then he takes the mop and
attacks the puddle.

"Cranberry juice sure does have a stain! I hope I can do something about
the floorboards. Maybe Jilara will find another virtual hole we can
drain the color into. Unless we do something, people will go to make a
toast, see the color, and think somebody got slaughtered here!"

He gets the mop all read and drippy, getting most of the puddle. The red
remains. He puts the mop in one bucket, shovels most of the glass in the
other (hmmmm, pieces of saucer? are the kittens toasting, too?), and
carries them out. Toasts pick up behind him.

Ten minutes later, he clanks back in with two empty buckets and a,
somewhat, clean mop. Mike looks up from behind the bar and says, "Hey,
Nick, take ten or twenty or a day or two. Come over and try this!" He
pours something yellow into a glass. Nick leaves the buckets and the mop
by the fireplace and clanks over to the bar.

"Thanx, Mike. What is it?"

"Try it, first"

Nick does. Hmmmm, not bad. Believe it or not, very fruity!

"Hey, good. Some kind of natural oil?"

"Sure - best there is - Olive oil!"

Nick has a metal face. His eyebrows move, fortunately. They climb. The
metal smile somehow widens. "Expensive?"

"Oh, no. And, lots of different brands. Lets try different sources over
the next few months."

"Great"

Nick salutes Mike, remembers to place one of his well-earned silver
dollars on the bar, and clanks over to his favorite place by one of the
virtual windows. The scene is a night scene, no, not night, but a dark
landscape lit as by the moon. The feeling is of cold. In the distance is
a large, dark structure as of a fortress. On careful inspection, the
fortress is seen as a distant city, self-contained, with few windows to
the outer world. Nearby is the - remains of - a road arrowing toward the
city. The road is dark red in the poor light. The edges are crumbling,
as they might have been crumbling for maybe a million years or so! The
broken pieces of pavement gleam like gemstones in the wan light.

Nick finally finishes the drink and turns from the window.

"The TA of DOOM said

>-Sometimes people give you a "break" because it empowers them.  That's
>-why I wouldn't always take the break that's offered.  By taking the
>-free ride your acquaintance may feel that she is giving up her power
>-to do things equally with sighted people.  They have to pay, but 'nice
>-people' take away her power to do that by insisting she ride free.
>-The free ride marks sighted people as somehow superior when dealing
>-with amusement parks.  But why?  She could probably scream as well as
>-the rest of them.

"I agree with this, Gary. The whole thing is a power trip. Gaining
power, real power, is done by giving power. Not giving the results of
power, but by giving the power itself. I go running with my friend in
the racing chair because he makes a good running partner. He is
challenging. I help him where he needs help, and don't where he doesn't.
I ask him. HE is the expert on what he needs, not me.

"It doesn't stop at people who have a noticable disability. (I like to
think that, ultimately, we are all only temporarily able-bodied. We all
start out totally dependent on AB people - our parents - and often end
up living our final days dependent on AB nurses or relatives.) We all
have to work together in this world, and doing things FOR people is very
different from doing things TO people. Why the hell don't we ever ASK
what people want? It would even be better if we just stood back when we
see needs and waited for the "needy" to say something.

"I try not to interfere in the personal lives of people. Even people who
hurt. I am not smart enough, experienced enough (after 46 years) to
reliably step in a fix everything. I often cause more hurt than I help.
So all I can do is treat people like intelligent adults who know what
they need (not just what they want) and respond honestly.

"It is all any of us can do, if we wish to diminish the suffering in
this world"

Nick Chopper - my opinion? dont ax!  LB>- GE.LJB@Forsythe.stanford.edu
Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!swrinde!cs.utexas.edu!hp-sdd!hplabs!hplred!egly
From: egly@hplred.HP.COM (Diana Egly)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Re: The Cynic rants raves and rages
Message-ID: <20940045@hplred.HP.COM>
Date: 16 Mar 90 02:17:36 GMT
References: <9060039@hpfcso.HP.COM>
Organization: Hewlett Packard Labs, Palo Alto CA
Lines: 27

/ hplred:alt.callahans / daq@hpfcso.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom) / 10:06 pm  Mar 13, 1990 /

> (David Goldfarb writes:)
>>   "To Taldin's Lady!" The glass arcs towards the fireplace--but halfway
>>there it shatters into a cloud of multicolored butterflies. They flutter
>>and sparkle in the light.
>>   One of the butterflies makes its uncertain way to Taldin and Joelle.
>>Landing on her hand, it turns warm and fuzzy.
>>   Another lands on the Cynic's nose and does the same. A note drops from
>>it: "You looked like you needed one of these :-)"
>
> The cynic reaches up with gentle fingers and removes the butterfly.
> He gets up slowly and walks to the door where he sets it free.

The butterfly flies away, seeking flowers and sun and a bit of spring
breeze.  It seems even more glorious outside, as part of the natural 
world, where it belongs.  After a time it returns to Callahans and 
perches on the Cynic's shoulder.  He hears a whispered thanks from the
butterfly and somehow he knows that it appreciates this most sincere of
all the possible gestures of friendship.  Eventually the butterfly flits
away.  As butterflies do.

And I walk over to the Cynic holding a new and very warm fuzzy.
"Thanks for the warm fuzzy.  You created quite a few when you set the
butterfly free.  But none for yourself I see.  Would you accept this one
from me?"
					Diana
Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!decwrl!shelby!lindy!news
From: HF.ZMF@forsythe.stanford.edu (Miriam Ferziger)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Chinese food and Truth
Message-ID: <8742@lindy.Stanford.EDU>
Date: 29 Mar 90 23:58:38 GMT
Sender: news@lindy.Stanford.EDU (News Service)
Lines: 35

Viola* entered Callahan's wearing the same black sweatshirt she wore
for her first visit.  "I don't know why everyone keeps complaining
about the (over)abundance of black around here," she mumbled.  "It
doesn't have to be a dreary, negative color." The rhinestones on the
shirt sparkled brightly in the bar's light, casting rainbows around
the room.  They bounced randomly and indiscriminately around the
room and various people and animals.  A complimentary blue light
bathed the green tiger and some of the kittens.  Rainbows attached
themselves to Eric and Liam and followed them around the room.  A
purple-ish rainbow stopped at Cynic's feet, and one of the tiger
cubs tried to chase it.

"Hi gang!" Viola called out, "As you can see, I now have a name!  I
just finished a Chinese takeout lunch (Jing Jing in Palo Alto [CA],
for anyone whoUs interested) and got a great 'fortune'.  Well, it is
not really a fortune, but the right person sure got it.  **Your
emotional nature is strong and sensitive**."

She turned toward the bar in time to see Mike pour a cup of oolong
tea, which she traded for a dollar bill.

"To Truth, whenever it crops up!"

<<Crash>> went the tea cup

<<Fizzle>>  answered the soggy tea leaves.

With that, Viola sat down at a table and joined the merriment.

-------------------
*Pronounced v (long i) oh - la

"If music be the food of love, play on" Duke Orsinio _12th Night_
(Wm. Shakespeare)
-------------------
Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!shawnee.cis.ohio-state.edu!james_e_gaynor
From: james_e_gaynor@shawnee.cis.ohio-state.edu
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Taoist subjunctive...
Keywords: ending, finality, change
Message-ID: <78640@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu>
Date: 30 Mar 90 01:45:55 GMT
Sender: usenet_news@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu
Reply-To: Vampire <gaynor@cis.ohio-state.edu>
Distribution: alt
Organization: Theatre of Incoherency
Lines: 59


	The Taoist has blurred out again, and those who look at him
have to blink once or twice, to be certain that their eyes are
properly focused.  Then, as the people who have seen The Taoist before
have come to expect, he comes back into focus.  But it's not the same
>snap< as usual.  Instead it's slow and agonizing.  As he becomes
clearer, The Taoist seems to be looking at an area directly in front
of his table.  You look there, and see a person forming - a
transparent figure slowly becoming opaque as The Taoist comes into
focus.  The person is female.  Tall, slim, with long straight brown
hair and a face that seems accustomed to sadness.
	The Taoist looks at her with a complex expression on his face;
a mixture of sadness, longing, and apology.  She looks back,
expressionless.  The Taoist is still not quite in focus, and you can
still see tables through the woman.  He raises his arms to her, as if
in supplication.  The >snap< never occurs, but he is now in focus, she
is now opaque.  She shakes her head slowly, and turns her back on him.

	Then she is gone.  To look at The Taoist now is almost
impossible to do; it's as if you're trying to look through a pane of
glass upon which a heavy rain is falling.  You can barely tell that
Taoist's head is on the table, cradled in his arms.  Then the rain
clears.  The Taoist sits up straight, then stands.  But this is no
longer The Taoist, though it is the same man.
	"He said there were only a few people that could bring Vampire
out, Thenomain did," the man says.  "She was one of them.
Inadvertantly, she created Vampire in kindness and laughter."  A
bitter smile, sharp teeth.  "Vampire ascendant, Taoist receding."

	Vampire strides to the bar.  Zoot follows, curious.  This new
man is more assured than Taoist - he seems almost arrogant.  There's a
grin on his face that hints of mischief.  Mischief that is not,
perhaps, harmless.  Something more animal than Taoist, something more
primal.  "Back shelf, Mike.  And you can keep that coffee...  in case
the Taoist ever comes back."  Mike reaches for a bottle high on a back
shelf, and pours a shot glass of dark, amber liquid.  A dollar bill,
rumpled and worn, is placed on the bar.
	As he turns from the bar, drink in hand, Vampire almost
stumbles over Zoot.  He kneels down, and scratches the puppy briefly.
	"I really don't think you want to be here, girl.  Not with me.
I'm not a creature for innocent things."
	He waves a hand at the door, and it opens into a room.
Cheryl, the woman who visited Taoist earlier, is in there, sitting at
a drawing table.  Zoot barks once, and bounces through the door to
Cheryl.  The door closes behind her.

	Walking to the white chalk line, he pauses.
	"To mistakes," Vampire toasts, then tosses back the drink and
hurls the glass into fireplace with incredible force, the glass
shattering into powder against the bricks.

	He walks away from the line, eschewing the table the Taoist
sat at for a darker booth near the back of the bar, where a single
candle burns brightly in a brass candle holder on the table...
-=-
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| Jim Gaynor - Graduating Macintosh Consultant - The Ohio State Univ. IRCC    |
| Email at [gaynor@cis.ohio.state.edu] or [gaynor@osu-20.ircc.ohio-state.edu] |
|_  "You, yes YOU, want to hire me!  Send away for my amazing resume TODAY!" _|
Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!cs.utexas.edu!hp-sdd!hplabs!hpfcso!daq
From: daq@hpfcso.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Radio Free Colorado
Message-ID: <9060050@hpfcso.HP.COM>
Date: 29 Mar 90 03:07:13 GMT
Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA
Lines: 60

From a radio somewhere in an obscure corner:

...that was 'Who Do You Want to Be Today?', by that ever 
bouncy band Oingo Boingo.  We'll be returning to
music in a minute, but first the weather.

Hoooo, it's cold here in oxygen free Colorado, home
of the ozone.  Snow is coming down pretty good
out there tonight.  Roads are hazardous, and
people on the outskirts have told me they can
hear coyotes howling in the hills.  Yow!  Too
eerie for me folks.  I would suggest you 
grab some firewood, pack those jams, batten down
the hatches, and snuggle up in front of a roaring fire 
with that special someone.

More music in a second here on Radio Free
Colorado, but first a little anecdote.

I have this cat, and for several years I
have played this little game with him.  I
turn on a flashlight, and he chases the
beam all over the room.  He I have seen
this little guy jump up to six feet
trying to catch this beam, only to 
sink those claws into nothing. 

Now, I have been playing this game with
him for almost four years, and despite
the fact that he has never caught the
light, he never stops trying.  It
really seems to me that he should have
figured out long ago that it is 
completely pointless, that he cannot
possibly succeed.  Oh well, he's
just a cat, what can you expect?

Now, if I were Jesus or Siddhartha or
Moses, this would probably be
viewed as a parable or something,
but it is just a silly anecdote
from a DJ in a small state on a 
small planet in the Orion arm of
a tiny galaxy in the monstrous
Sagitarius supercluster, which
can be found on the shelves of
your local supermarket.  Ask
for it by name.

Well hey, folks.  Let's liven this up.
Where are you all?  Let's have some
requests!

But in the mean time, here is a summer song
to lift your spirits.  It's the Dead Kennedys
with 'Holiday in Cambodia.'

....It's a Holiday in Cambodia, where you'll do
what you're told.  Holiday in Cambodia where the
sun has so much soul ... 
Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!yale!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!shawnee.cis.ohio-state.edu!james_e_gaynor
From: james_e_gaynor@shawnee.cis.ohio-state.edu
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: A quick visit...
Keywords: Two dollars, two drinks...
Message-ID: <78645@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu>
Date: 30 Mar 90 04:10:12 GMT
Sender: usenet_news@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu
Reply-To: Vampire <gaynor@cis.ohio-state.edu>
Distribution: alt
Organization: Ohio State University Computer and Information Science
Lines: 16


	Vampire climbs out of his booth, and moves forward to the bar.
He pulls two ones out of a pocket, smooths them, and places them on
the surface of the bar.
	When Mike looks at him quizzically, he replies, "They're for
Taldin and his lady.  I just ran into him on IRC.  An interesing
fellow, to say the very least.  And hospitable to one who drops in out
of the... blue."

	Vampire smirks, and dodges a few peanuts on his way back to
his booth, where he sits, quietly grinning to himself.
-=-
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| Jim Gaynor - Graduating Macintosh Consultant - The Ohio State Univ. IRCC    |
| Email at [gaynor@cis.ohio.state.edu] or [gaynor@osu-20.ircc.ohio-state.edu] |
|_  "You, yes YOU, want to hire me!  Send away for my amazing resume TODAY!" _|