Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!pt.cs.cmu.edu!andrew.cmu.edu!+ From: thyst@rush.cc.cmu.edu (Jeffrey Alexander) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Heroes Message-ID: <9003301612.AA06929@rush.cc.cmu.edu> Date: 30 Mar 90 16:12:16 GMT Organization: Carnegie Mellon, Pittsburgh, PA Lines: 32 'Thyst turns in his chair towards Jilara, after her speach about super-heroics (and before she starts pulling out long, sharp objects), and speaks up. "There's lots of ways to be a hero, Jilara. I have a friend from high school -- Cindy is her name. She's been a volunteer paramedic since 11th grade or so. Sad to say, I guess I never knew her as well as I thought I had, because I could never figure out what got her interested in that occupation. I've heard my share of 'bloody mess' stories from her. One day, though, I got to thinking about the effect she was having on the town, and the world: just one measly little paramedic. I compared her with all the glorified yayhoo cops on TV, and realized I'd much rather watch a show about her. "I also tried to draw parallels between real-life heroes such as herself, and comic-book people like the X-Kids, or Green Lantern, or Kevin Matchstick. There weren't many there, either. They were all too busy being melodramatic. "The way I figure, you don't necessarily have to be able to laugh in the face of Death to be a 'hero'. You just have to be very unselfish, and expect no recognition except (possibly) from those you directly help, and be willing to put up with a label that's much more mundane than most people realize. +--\ __ /--------------------------+----------------------------------+ | \/ \/ 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!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!bat.cis.ohio-state.edu!kent_a_jenkins From: kent_a_jenkins@bat.cis.ohio-state.edu Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Heroes, Corners, and the Like Summary: Summer? Message-ID: <78707@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu> Date: 31 Mar 90 02:12:07 GMT References: <9003301612.AA06929@rush.cc.cmu.edu> Sender: usenet_news@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu Reply-To: Thenomain Organization: Ohio State University Computer and Information Science Lines: 22 Whether or not it's something hereditary or just a bad case of curiosity, Thenomain straightens his keyboard and faces the center of the room. His eyes look a little troubled for a moment as Zoot scitters out of the room, but he quickly recovers from the amount of conversation surrounding him. "Corner? Why would anyone want to be crammed into a corner? How can you dance and be free in a corner? How can you," he smiles, "how can you go to other corners in a corner?" He shrugs and looks around a bit, scruffing the bangs out of his eyes. "I know, I know. People find corners safe, and safety is something we tend to cling to. I know." He turns in the swivil-chair (still having a field day with it) and faces 'Thyst. "You know, I see what you mean about glorified heros. Superheros, though... I really can't see what makes them wear some of those styles." He shrugs again and continues absorbing the conversation like an amused child. -=- -- Thenomain -- Kent Jenkins -- Card-carrying zealot -- -- jenkins@osu-20.ircc.ohio-state.edu -- in the Order of the -- -- kent-j@cis.ohio-state.edu -- Fweeble. -- Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!usenet.ins.cwru.edu!eagle!news From: spgreg@mars.lerc.nasa.gov Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Enter Eustace Message-ID: <1990Mar31.011734.3356@eagle.lerc.nasa.gov> Date: 31 Mar 90 01:17:34 GMT Reply-To: spgreg@mars.lerc.nasa.gov Organization: NASA Lewis Research Center Lines: 41 The door opens again today, this time onto a foggy, cold landscape that looks characteristic of the Orkneys. A strong smell of salty sea air wafts into the room followed by a man who seems to radiate the same hints of unknown depths, dangers and ever changing challenges that one associates with the big blue. The door swings shut on its own as the man unslings a claymore from his back. Glancing only briefly at the crowd, he leans the sword against the wall near the door, and heads towards the bar. His confident, stable gait reflects a readiness to meet any challenge head on, but a weariness is also noted. The tattered, brown, hooded cloak worn over the faintly patterned, black wool kilt and rough leather leggings seem to speak of the same weariness and distant battles. Pulling a freshly minted Louis VI silver piece from a small purse, he almost speaks as Mike turns towards a tap. Returning with a wooden mug, Mike says, "What would a twelfth century Scott seaman drink but mead?" "You've read my mind." The hood slides off as he takes a long pull of the sweet stuff, revealing multiple scars on his shaved head. "I am called Eustace, sometimes The Black Monk. You have as unique a clientele as I have encountered anywhere, yet there is a sense of familiarity here." Addressing the assortment, "I wage continuous war upon the French, who took my parents from me when I was but six. I plunder their ships and set them adrift, as they did to me. Here in Callahan's I sense the possibility of safety and calm. I need a calm port since my excommuni- cation left me with naught but King Henry's License to Privateer as a source for confidence. I would make this my dry dock if you would have me." -Eustace ----------------------------------------------------------------- Eustace | Friend, that open mouth | Reveals your whole interior spgreg@csd.lerc.nasa.gov | Silly hollow frog! | -Anon. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!cs.utexas.edu!hp-sdd!hplabs!hplred!egly From: egly@hplred.HP.COM (Diana Egly) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Trials and Tribulations/ a students nightmare Message-ID: <20940043@hplred.HP.COM> Date: 10 Mar 90 15:35:59 GMT References: <90069.001106JLS139@psuvm.psu.edu> Organization: Hewlett Packard Labs, Palo Alto CA Lines: 29 / hplred:alt.callahans / JLS139@psuvm.psu.edu (Abaddon) / 9:11 pm Mar 9, 1990 / One small difference of opinion, Abaddon. Or difference of experience actually. > When I had several assignments due at once and felt like I was > falling behind, I just redoubled my efforts, trusting in my abilities to > pull me through. I pulled several all nighters and then some, but then it was > no different than what I had experienced in the Army so I knew that I could > handle it. Everbody has this capability, but not everyone has experienced > it in the extreme and nobody likes to go without sleep or work under pressure. > I figure if anybody does well enough to make it to college then they should > have the tools to enable them to graduate. Not everyone has the capacity to handle pulling several all nighters. I for one can't. It doesn't matter whether I am studing or partying or trying to cope with a personal tragedy, if I try pulling all nighters I sink into serious depressed mode. Pulling several all nighters would almost certainly turn me suicidal. Now this may be a little unusual (as I understand it most people are more likely to turn hypomanic with sleep deprivation rather than depressive) but it's not unheard of. If you'd modify your statement to "most people have this capacity..." then we'd agree. Or maybe you're right. I do have the capacity to pull all nighters and work under pressure, but the price I pay in consequence seems a bit too steep. What about the people who kill themselves during basic training? How often does it result from a biochemical inbalance as a result of sleeplessness? And how could we tell? Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!jarthur!estokien From: estokien@jarthur.Claremont.EDU (Eric Stokien) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Well.... Message-ID: <5661@jarthur.Claremont.EDU> Date: 31 Mar 90 08:14:16 GMT Organization: Harvey Mudd College, Claremont, CA 91711 Lines: 29 The searcher comes in to the place and using his VCR, plays back the tape of the goings on since his last post. Well, I seem to have started a discussion here. People have talked about expressing anger, and certainly releasing anger by beating up on inanimate things is a good stress relief, (anyone who has experienced noisy minutes at my college knows what I mean). I myself got tremendous satisfaction out of breaking dead tree branches on trees, when I was young and angry. I don't get angry much anymore, except against myself and that is hard to express. I thought perhaps a few words bore sharing with people. I finally got a hold of a copy of Callahan's Lady in paperback, it was sort of alt.sex meets alt.callahans (IMHO), though a bit less explicit, I am rather curious about the things that Sherry would rather die than do, but then again I'm a pervert. It is curious, I wrote a while back about how I felt my life was entering a new stage, and in a way it was. My experiences of freedom and new life, led me to see that what I really wanted was my former girlfriend in a way that I had never before. We may not last outside of this school as I had previously thought, but now I'm not all that sure. Before, I was almost biding time waiting for the right match, but now I'm not sure my tastes haven't changed. I do not see a future yet, but I am closing myself off less. I think it was these things that had hurt our relationship before and now I am willing to change them, and that is why it might work. As for emotions, I'm still searching, but I have someone who may be able to help, maybe. -Searcher Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!uwm.edu!cs.utexas.edu!mailrus!usenet.ins.cwru.edu!cwjcc!ncoast!allbery From: allbery@NCoast.ORG (Brandon S. Allbery) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Free the Jects from Slavery! Message-ID: <1990Mar31.002715.13240@NCoast.ORG> Date: 31 Mar 90 00:27:15 GMT References: <14536@reed.UUCP> <78539@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu> Reply-To: allbery@ncoast.ORG (Brandon S. Allbery) Followup-To: alt.callahans Organization: North Coast Public Access UN*X, Cleveland, OH Lines: 21 As quoted from <78539@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu> by james_e_gaynor@armadillo.cis.ohio-state.edu: +--------------- | As Mike makes drinks, the Taoist says to the bar in general, | "Has anyone here ever heard of Basia Trzetrzelewska? Jazz singer? | She's got two CDs out: 'Time and Tide', and 'London Warsaw New York'. | I just recently 'found' her, thanks to the bewitching picture on the | front of 'London Warsaw New York', and haven't found anyone else who | has heard her music. " | "It's rather frustrating." +--------------- Yeah-HOO! She's great stuff! I gotta find her CDs somewhere; currently, I'm a slave to the radio as far as her songs are concerned. ++Brandon -- Brandon S. Allbery (human), allbery@NCoast.ORG (Inet), BALLBERY (MCI Mail) ALLBERY (Delphi), uunet!cwjcc.cwru.edu!ncoast!allbery (UUCP), B.ALLBERY (GEnie) BrandonA (A-Online) ("...and a partridge in a pear tree!" ;-) Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!apple!mips!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!uwm.edu!cs.utexas.edu!mailrus!usenet.ins.cwru.edu!cwjcc!ncoast!allbery From: allbery@NCoast.ORG (Brandon S. Allbery) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Some ramblings Message-ID: <1990Mar31.012432.13643@NCoast.ORG> Date: 31 Mar 90 01:24:32 GMT References: <9003292120.AA05832@rush.cc.cmu.edu> Reply-To: allbery@ncoast.ORG (Brandon S. Allbery) Followup-To: alt.callahans Organization: North Coast Public Access UN*X, Cleveland, OH Lines: 61 The quasi-elf appears out of nowhere... standing half in the bar. Mike glares at him. "Oops..." and he steps forward out of the bar and finishes solidi- fying. A cat is curled up in the crook of one arm, sleeping. The cat is long-haired and pure white... except for random spots of dark brown tabby markings and a tail that would be more appropriate on a raccoon. As quoted from <9003292120.AA05832@rush.cc.cmu.edu> by thyst@rush.cc.cmu.edu (Jeffrey Alexander): +--------------- | 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?" +--------------- "Cats," the ``elf'' says, "are the closest physical approximation to warm fuzzies available in the lesser reality." The cat suddenly wakes up and jumps on to the bar, and the "elf" is suddenly surrounded by a soft blue light. When it disappears, the perhaps-familiar one is there in his place. "My friend wanted to say that to everyone. I have to agree, although I am a bit confused about where he'd find a cat...." He turns toward Mike. "Cinnamon tea---Eneitre might decide to come back. And a small bowl of water for Patches. (Yeah, unimaginative. I didn't name her; I got her from my parents when I moved out.) She doesn't like milk for some reason. We're both a bit weird; that's probably why we get along so well together." He finds himself a table and sets his tea and the cat's water down, then gently transfers the cat from his shoulder (where she had climbed) to a spot beside the bowl. "Yes, it appears to be spring at last. In some ways, I think I'd rather stay in winter. It matches the cold barrenness in my heart at this time of year.... "Spring is when I truly feel that I am alone. I try to keep myself busy enough that I don't have time to think about it---which is why I often find myself over-committed---but it doesn't always help." He fidgets for a few moments. "I don't think I'm really ready to bare my soul yet, even here. I'm finding it difficult to come up with the words." Those who check their watches note that it's taken him a half an hour to say even that little bit. "I'll just sit over here and try to find the words to say. Perhaps even *that* will help a little." Patches, having finished her water, stands up and issues forth a---something, a long, drawn-out, loud sound that starts at a high pitch and goes steadily higher. Then she suddenly bats the bowl from a low angle; it sails into the air over the heads of startled customers and smashes into the fireplace. "Hmmm. I wish I understood her. Wonder who or what she was toasting?" The cat turns, jumps into his lap, and falls asleep. The lap's owner settles down with his tea, his eyes focused on something beyond the view of others. -- Brandon S. Allbery (human), allbery@NCoast.ORG (Inet), BALLBERY (MCI Mail) ALLBERY (Delphi), uunet!cwjcc.cwru.edu!ncoast!allbery (UUCP), B.ALLBERY (GEnie) BrandonA (A-Online) ("...and a partridge in a pear tree!" ;-) Path: mit-eddie!rutgers!uwm.edu!cs.utexas.edu!mailrus!usenet.ins.cwru.edu!cwjcc!ncoast!allbery From: allbery@NCoast.ORG (Brandon S. Allbery) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: grenades Message-ID: <1990Mar31.013355.13737@NCoast.ORG> Date: 31 Mar 90 01:33:55 GMT References: <9003141124.AA04873@fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM> <20940047@hplred.HP.COM> Reply-To: allbery@ncoast.ORG (Brandon S. Allbery) Followup-To: alt.callahans Organization: North Coast Public Access UN*X, Cleveland, OH Lines: 36 As quoted from <20940047@hplred.HP.COM> by egly@hplred.HP.COM (Diana Egly): +--------------- | / hplred:alt.callahans / goldfarb@ocf.berkeley.edu (David Goldfarb) / 6:26 am Mar 17, 1990 / | In article <21780006@hpcndjdz.HP.COM> jason@hpcndjdz.HP.COM (Jason Zions) writes: | > and suddenly the air is alive with | > cream pies piling themselves on him from all directions amid general | > laughter. | | In the midst of the pie fight a lone figure walks towards the door. | Actually shuffles more than walks, as if she'd aged a century over night. | And perhaps she has. When a pie hits her, she doesn't seem to notice. | It is, as Jilara said, cold and rainy out, but again she doesn't seem | to notice. The rain cleans the pie from her, but she doesn't much | care one way or the other. | | As she disappears into the dark she mumbles, "must keep callahan's fun. | mustn't let it get gloomy. lighten up. lighten up. gotta keep it light. | mustn't really *feel* anything." | | And she is gone. +--------------- A soft blue glow appears at one table, and the quasi-elf appears in place of the possibly-familiar one. He stretches out a hand; a warm fuzzy lies perched on it. The fuzzy turns into a butterfly and flies out of a window, following Diane. "I would hope," the "elf" says with a sad smile, "that she finds the light she seeks. But she must find it inside herself; I fear I cannot help her." The blue glow appears again, and the possibly-familiar one is staring off into infinity again. -- Brandon S. Allbery (human), allbery@NCoast.ORG (Inet), BALLBERY (MCI Mail) ALLBERY (Delphi), uunet!cwjcc.cwru.edu!ncoast!allbery (UUCP), B.ALLBERY (GEnie) BrandonA (A-Online) ("...and a partridge in a pear tree!" ;-) Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!bionet!apple!usc!cs.utexas.edu!hp-sdd!hplabs!hpfcso!daq From: daq@hpfcso.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Life Gambling Message-ID: <9060051@hpfcso.HP.COM> Date: 30 Mar 90 02:06:08 GMT References: <9003281449.AA22147@fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM> Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA Lines: 122 Doug enters the bar looking quite dishevelled. His clothes are non-descript, and his eyes are haggard but clear. He orders a glass of 1984 La Vielle Ferme and crosses to talk to Jilara. >Jilara takes out a deck of cards, shuffles it, deals out some cards >onto the table in front of her, and frowns at them. She looks over >at Cynic. "Ever hear the joke about the guys who played poker with >a tarot deck? Somebody got a full house and three people died?" She I laugh heartily at this. God, I would hate to even ponder a royal straight flush. How would one play guts with a tarot deck? >flips a card to his table from the spread she's dealt. It's the base >card: a pagoda with falling people. The Tower, with a Japanese twist, >tarot interpreted with a Buddhist/Shinto skewing, from her standard >deck. "Mediated by this one..." She flips him another card. It has >two katana, surrounded by maple leaves. "The upsetting of the old order >by violence, a renewal of sorts, but with some major nastiness in the >clearing away. Mediated a bit by two swords in balance, who find strength >in that balance and the strong values they support." She sweeps up the >cards, collects back the cards from Cynic, and shuffles the deck again. Jilara, I am touched that my tough friend would deal a tarot hand for me. I wonder if your deck says anything about returning to the old order. Mediated by two swords, eh? Well, perhaps I can cling to that, but it would seem to be less that wise to cling too strongly to swords. Would it not? >"Let's talk about games, and wagers, for a minute. I used to always say >that I resigned the game to the serious players. The problem wasn't that >I wasn't serious: it was that my coin wasn't worth much in this realm. >So when the stakes went high, I'd be wagering my lifesavings, but bottom >out, nonetheless, because the exchange rate was unfavorable. You see, >brass coin is worth a LOT more in the game of life, sometimes. They >guffaw at gold, and sweep it up in the winnings, coin of a realm they >don't understand. A lot of life's like that. I understand. It seems sometimes that all I have is cancelled credit cards. But to be more serious and a bit less obscure, I recognize the intent of your words and agree with them a bit. But if coin of a mundane realm is what you need to buy friends, happiness, and peace of mind, then is it not desirable? I look at the gold I have, and intellectually I know its worth, but my heart just sees metal. I sometimes hang around these card games and dream of owning masses of those lovely brass coins. I want to tell people that it REALLY does help to have others admire your gold. It reminds you that it is valuable. Right now, I seem to be going around to people saying, "Look at this, isn't this cool?" :) >looking monster, holding a sword, sits before a crowd of people. >"Emma-Hoo, Lord of Death and Rebirth, who shows the way to Enlightenment. >If you need a trump, he's not bad. He fills the role of both Death and >the Devil in my Japanese deck---he teaches lessons, you see." She Lessons from the Devil? What an interesting thought. I feel the devil at my heart now. I think he has a sword too. >puts the cards on top of the rest. "But never use all the cards in your >sleeves, and only use them for effect. It wouldn't do to show an entire >hand." She smiles, and places the deck in a black laquerware box, and >some swore they caught just a flash of another card in her hand.... Your intent is understood. It is particularly difficult to remember, during the times of pain and blackness, that revealing too much is not good for the revealer or the recipient. There is far too great a tendency to take out all of the cards and start saying, "Here, look at this. And this. And how about this?" Dignity and self respect demand that you hold a few surprises in store for yourself and for those very special people. If you spread all of your emotions too thinly, then you can cheapen the value that they might have when you finally do reveal them to someone who is really close. I really mean this, although I do not always feel it. Also, there is a fine line to be tread. One must reveal something to make friends, and a friendship without further revealing is superficial at best. And when in particular distress, it is, perhaps, appropriate that you reveal a little more so that you give someone an opportunity to say, "Oh look, Gold!" A toast to your gold Jilara, and to mine. Doug raises his glass and drinks to the toast. Before I leave, I just wanted to say that I have grown a bit tired of all this cynic crap. I simply no longer want people reading too much into the label. The gestalt of intellect and emotions that is me, is much too diverse to be effectively labeled by the word cynic. Many people have said things to me that have lead me to remember that while I am sometimes cynical, I am not necessarily a cynic. There is a difference. Now, I may affect personas in this environment for symbolic effect in the future, but I no longer want to label myself in such a way as to make people think that I am a hater of hope and the nobler emotions. I may have more to say on this when I toast Diana, because she and I talked about nobility a bit. I will not be a label now. I will be Doug. That is still a label, but at least people have to think about it before assuming anything. Now a formal toast: "To my e-mail friends. May their hearts soar to venus on balsa wood wings. May their heads fill to bursting with feelings of giddy joy and daffy contentment. May their feet lead them aimlessly on a stumbling path straight through the heart of bliss." Doug. Path: mit-eddie!bu.edu!lll-winken!uwm.edu!cs.utexas.edu!usc!ucsd!ucbvax!CCB.UCSF.EDU!robin From: robin@CCB.UCSF.EDU (Robin Colgrove) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: A polka for the PLace Message-ID: <9003310921.AA19162@ccb.ucsf.EDU> Date: 31 Mar 90 09:21:01 GMT Sender: daemon@ucbvax.BERKELEY.EDU Lines: 95 Fishing through the contents of his decaying knapsack as he walks toward the bar, robin fails to notice the cream pie tin lying forgotten on the floor. Step. sploosh. whoooooooop! Meeeooooowrrrr-hisssss!! Ouch... making his peace with the falled-upon feline in this fur-filled funhouse (not to mention the now foam-festooned female who got a field-goal facial with the pastry shell), he disengages an exceedingly warm fuzzy apparently attempting to mate with his shaggy hair and finally finds what he's been looking for in the backpack. He sets the oddly shaped device on an empty table. "Well, I'm just about through the song-cycle I began a while back and have pretty much cleared the queue of stuff with callahanian overtones. I haven't even touched my vast stock of Gilbert and Sullivan spoofs but these are largely too full of in jokes to make sense here. Got a couple numbers cooking for the upcoming senior class play but barring that, here's the end of robin's stupid song file. This is another original score (available on request ;) for SATB plus piano, clarinet and two trombones. Again, virtual music is problematic but set your defaults to generic Polka and it should work fine. This marks my only foray into the polka genre and my first attempt at choreography (me?!). It's a radiation safety parable for molecular biologists dependent for our livelihoods on radio-isotopically labelled nucleotides but for the purposes of this crowd is distinguished mainly by its painful and tortured rhymes on the word "polka". enjoy..." And with that, he punches some buttons on top of the mysterious device, causing it to emit a small holo-movie of the help-me-obi-wan-you're-my-only-hope type. Four pairs of tiny dancers with geiger counters and safety goggles twirl behind A close harmony quartet in full radiation bunny suits. A familiar figure can just be made out at the periphery of the scene, hunched over the piano and clad in bowler, clockwork-orange one-eye mascara, and black muscle shirt with the credo EVOLUTION NOW embroidered on the back. Credits roll by on the holo-show... THE P THIRTY TWO POLKA words, music, arrangement and choreography by robin colgrove, 1987 performed by robin and his red-hot radio-isotopes! Hit it, kids! Baah Baaaah Buh-bup buh buh buh OOM-pah oom-pah, OOM-pah oom-pah OOM-pah oom-pah, OOM-pah If you venture to the deepest darkest corner of our lab you will find a warning notice posted on a concrete slab and herein lies a story that we grant is strange but true of a man who got too liberal with his P-thirty-two! (*HEY!*) P-thirty-two, for me and for you who's gonna notice if we lose a base or two? That's why our radiation safety man is havin' a stroke as we all gather round and do the P-thirty-two Polka! He spilled counts on all the freezers, on the fridges and the phones and the handles to his drawers were hot like everything he owns. With a Geiger to the floor even his footsteps could be traced that's why we called him Doctor Hotspot, King of Isotopic Waste! (*HEY!*) P-thirty-two, for me and for you who really cares if we mutate a gene or two? So come see Mr. Geiger counter 'cause he's startin' to smoke as we kick up our heels and do the P-thirty-two Polka! But when he got the ceiling hot our fragile tolerance wore through so we called a secret meeting and decided what to do. One night we sneaked up right behind him as he grabbed a bite to eat and took his bench, his books, his clothes and him and sealed them in concrete! (*HEY*!) P-thirty-two, for me and for you who gives a darn if we delete a band or two? And though it might make our children all look like Lee Iacocca we'll still have a ball doin' the P-thirty-two Polka! Well we're gonna let him out as soon as caution will allow which should be 'bout a hundred fifty seven years or so from now! And so you better all take care or this could happen to you if you don't clean up your act with all that P-thirty-two! (*HEY!*) P-thirty-two, for me and for you surely we'll get by without a chromosome or two! And since by now our germ cells all have turned to tapioca we might as well dance and sing we might as well dance and sing we might as well dance and sing the P-thirty-two P-P-thirty-two thirty-two thirty-two POLKA!!! (*HEY!*)