Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!ira.uka.de!fauern!tumuc!guug!ixos!news From: caroline@sco.COM (Caprice) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Calling Radio Free Colorado Message-ID: <820@ixos.UUCP> Date: 19 Apr 90 11:32:40 GMT Sender: news@ixos.UUCP Lines: 43 RRRRINGGGG! RRRRRINGGGGG! Uh, hello? Radio Free Colorado? Great! This is Caprice, listening in at Callahan's Place and I'd like to say thanks for playing that song by the Doors for me. But do keep playing the other stuff, too, OK? I'm getting lots of tips for updating my moldering music collection! But mainly, I called to talk about friends, what their good points are. One of the most important, at least an ideal to strive for anyway, is an ability to laugh at things. A good sense of humor, especially when it's kind of off-beat and a little weird, a sense of the absurd, even. Like this guy I used to live with... One day, we were driving around and drove past a 2nd hand store, and they had a sign out front that said "Used Furs, 20% off". Well, at the time we had a kitty (he took the kitty when we broke up, sniffle, snurf), named Max, and I looked at the sign and said, '*Used* Furs', huh? Wonder what Max would think of the concept of selling 'New' fur, eh?" We both had a good laugh about the concept and how funny it was, but I can imagine that there are people out there in the world somewhere who would've just looked at me strangely or wouldn't have thought the concept very funny at all for one reason or another, but most of the folks I call my friends would have laughed about it. Well, unless they were in a bad mood at the time or something. Yes, of course there are other good points ... .. But I probably ought to let you get some more folks calling in, not monopolize the phone line here, so I'll call back if no one else calls in on this subject, OK? Bye now! -- I'll wrap four strands of hair 'round a notch of the nearest pine. A spider's web, come spring. -- Roberta Hill Whiteman Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!ira.uka.de!fauern!tumuc!guug!ixos!news From: wgarmil@HAWK.ULOWELL.EDU (WildCard) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Reposting of partial letter Message-ID: <847@ixos.UUCP> Date: 19 Apr 90 11:35:43 GMT Sender: news@ixos.UUCP Lines: 38 After spending Easter weekend crying in memory of a lost love, WildCard finally looks up from the fire. And for once, he is not alone. Diana- It is Marcy's memory which anchors me in reality. Before her, it was the need to care for a friend who was like me, but unable to care for himself. Before these two, I had no anchor was "permanantly" adrift. But to answer your question, no I do not have a anchor (other than Marcy's memory) currently. However, I am better off than I was before and current do not need a physical anchor (I do know I can not be without one forever, however I may feel today). Nick- Thank you for reassuring me that this is were I needed to be this weekend. This place is truely a place of healing. To all the others who comforted me this weekend- Thank you. My contacts have currently fogged up and I can not see everyone around me, but I do feel you presence and appriciate it. I believe the time has come to remove this costume (at least for a while. It is as much a part of me as my glasses are). WildCard standup, moves over to a place where he won't blind anyone, and clangs his golden bracelets above his head. When the flash has died down, WildCard is gone and Wayne Garmil, reluctant time traveler and lost soul, is in his place. Without his costume gone, so are his illusions. He is slightly overweight, brown haired & eyed, about mid-twenties in age, average height and wears thick glasses. His eyes search the room for friends and comfort and settle upon Kady. But before he goes over to her, he must not ignore his new friends. But his smile says he will not forget about her. They will meet soon. Wayne heads back to his table to talk with his new friends. For a while, he has found a home. _ __ _ __ How can we dance ' ) / // / / ) / when our earth is turning? / / / o // __/ / __. __ __/ How can we sleep (_(_/ <_ Date: 19 Apr 90 16:37:25 GMT References: <4657@pegasus.ATT.COM> Reply-To: f3w@mentor.cc.purdue.edu (Mark Gellis) Organization: Purdue University Lines: 8 The story about taxes--I got mine out more than a month before the deadline... because I am much too lazy to want to deal with that kind of headache--made me remeber the old saw about "Give unto Caesar what is due to Caesar" and so on. If it makes anyone feel better, remember that Caesar not only got your taxes, but about forty-seven different knife wounds when the Senate decided he was a little too ambitious. Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!samsung!noose.ecn.purdue.edu!mentor.cc.purdue.edu!f3w From: f3w@mentor.cc.purdue.edu (Mark Gellis) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: reflections/reply/ah well Message-ID: <9881@mentor.cc.purdue.edu> Date: 19 Apr 90 16:56:57 GMT References: <8914@pogo.WV.TEK.COM> <13186@csli.Stanford.EDU> Reply-To: f3w@mentor.cc.purdue.edu (Mark Gellis) Organization: Purdue University Lines: 37 The Man Who Talked with Books, stirred from his buzz by the commotion, has been listening. He speaks (and not with forked tongue): "Bravo Chris, your comments and actions are respectively winning and admirable." "If I might add a few points, it seems that the argument is moot: 1) The Lurker is probably gone. He will not hear our comments. 2) If he is here, and listening, and still thinks we are loony, there is probably something wrong with him; he may simply be staying around to give Lyra a hard time. After all, if we are that pathetic (which I do not think, although some of us do have our little problems), what does it say about the Lurker that he/she stays around to bitch at us? 3) On the off chance that the Lurker is around, and open-minded enough to listen, I would remind him/her that there is a little something called "suspension of disbelief," an interesting little faculty of the mind that probably exists for the same reason that all intelligent creatures (from about the level of cats on up) seem enjoy and even need certain forms of play. In short, people who do not enjoy "fantasy"--of one kind or another-- and attempt to avoid all forms of us, are probably very unhealthy, and need help, serious professional help, a lot more than any of us." "But I doubt he/she is listening. Sounds to me like someone who likes telling small children that Santa Claus does not exist. Too many small children probably kicked him/her in the shins, so he has decided to attack people who, because this is an electronic medium, cannot fight back." "I'll admit I've seen some enormously silly things done and said in this bar, but (a) if you don't like it, you don't have to stay, and (b) after all the other things I've seen some people do, I would have to say that at least the people here are not trying to hurt each other, which is a very positive step." He takes a sip of his Harp and waits to hear what people have to say. Path: mit-eddie!bu.edu!lll-winken!uunet!shelby!lindy!news From: GE.LJB@forsythe.stanford.edu (Louis J Bookbinder) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: quickies Message-ID: <9064@lindy.Stanford.EDU> Date: 19 Apr 90 17:14:45 GMT Sender: news@lindy.Stanford.EDU (News Service) Lines: 34 Clank, clank, "I'll sweep up shortly. I am trying to keep up with the avalanche (weird spelling) of postings while trying to keep up with the avalanche of work. This isn't helped by the mailer reposting some week-old a.c. stuff!" Nick looks up at the emerald tiger, staring unblinkingly back at him, and Diana, sitting on a nearby rafter. "Excellent discussion of humor. We will have to talk in more detail why you respond to others' trouble-coping humor by taking on the pain to yourself. You shouldn't have to do this. Is this what Empathy is all about? If so I'm not sure I want to learn......" *SIGH* "Hello, welcome, pull up a chair to Liralen, Midi, and Sir Papillon. Sir Knight, forget the windmills, there are real dragons out there and we need your skills. Hang around and see! Stack, ask around for Mickey Finn, you might want to compare super-weaponry (no testing here, please). "Mary Ann, Thanx for telling us that Silverback has a new Job! Wonderful! I KNEW he could! But it is always a relief. I hope, with the layoffs at Stanford, I won't have to change jobs myself! "Chris! You changed! You are no longer just Chris Phoenix, you are now Chris THE PHOENIX! I have always loved the image of the self-renewing bird! I always think of Stravinsky's Firebird, one of my favorites. If you supply the heat, I'll supply the wood and we will keep the place warm and well lit! "Gotta run." Nick Chopper - my opinion? dont ax! LB>- GE.LJB@Forsythe.stanford.edu Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!ucsd!ucbvax!FSDCUPT.CSD.MOT.COM!jane From: jane@FSDCUPT.CSD.MOT.COM (Jane Beckman x4030) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Creative psychosis Message-ID: <9004191135.AA09635@fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM> Date: 19 Apr 90 18:35:31 GMT Sender: daemon@ucbvax.BERKELEY.EDU Lines: 64 "So, we're all psychotic, hmmm? Maybe we should all wear buttons that say something along the lines of "PSYCHOTIC AND PROUD OF IT." Jilara chuckles to herself "Psychotic, oh yes... Reminds me of how lovely it was the day I went off my head and took an extended walking tour of Sacramento dressed in 1840's full mourning. (I should mention I was sorta playing docent at Sutters Fort, which is why I was dressed that way...) Being crazy can be a VERY liberating experience... It's also useful when dealing with certain individuals...like lurkers." She smiles evilly, and an odd and unnerving light comes into her eyes. A few people near her shiver and look away. She laughs, and the light fades. "I mentioned once about scaring muggers. Appropriate psychosis is very useful in dealing with certain people..." She does not look amused. She goes over and picks up the chair Lyra threw, puts it by the woodbox. "I guess this is one way to get kindling." She then goes and gives Lyra a hug. "I think appropriate use of furniture is often beneficial," she says in a quiet, flinty voice. "I've done it a few times, myself." She sits down at Lyra's table, not before giving another quick hug. "I think it was Ellen, months back, who suggested I someday tell of how I faced down some muggers. Since I'm on the topic, I might as well tell it now, and let things simmer down while I do. "A few years back, I had to go pick up some paperwork from a friend who had recently moved into a very bad area of West Oakland. As a matter of fact, she'd gotten mugged passing an alley, shortly after she moved in. (I was the person she called to freak out to, after she finished with the cops.) Well, I headed over to her place, noticing what a charming neighborhood it was. There was a grafitti-covered slum apartment at the end of the block that looked like someplace out of Beirut. The only parking was beyond it. I took one look at the street and said "The only way I walk down this street is IN the street." Too many mugger hidey-holes. Well, I am walking down the street outside the row of parked cars, and notice a shadow on the sidewalk, a small lumpy shape behind the trunk of a car. Hmmm, I said to myself. It was nicely opposite an alley that disappeared into darkness. So I let that psychotic light come into my eyes, and quietly walked up behind the shape, from the street side. There were two black guys crouched down behind the car, all tensed up waiting to pounce, teensy-tiny knives (switchblades?) in their hands. I got my best Joker smile, then put my hands on my hips, cleared my throat, and demanded: "WAITING for someone?!" They must have jumped three feet straight up and fell all over themselves, backing off. "Hey, no, man... Naahh, just leaving man..." I took two steps toward them, taking my hands off my hips and flexing my hands, letting my expression say "this is a crazy person who has been waiting for an opportunity for violence." They broke and ran off down the alley. I continued on my way with no further incident that night. I can only hope it put them off their rounds for a while." She smiles and shrugs. "These are the things that creative visualization, a touch of madness, and a good bluff can do for you." She gets up and walks to the chalk line. "To Belief! May it ever see us through!" DISCLAIMER: "We're professionals: don't try this at home!" ---Jilara the Exile (I hope.) "If I'm not home accepting what I cannot change, I'm out changing what I can't accept." ---Ashleigh Brilliant alternate mail path: jane%fsdcupt.csd@urbana.mcd.mot.com My email went to Urbana, but all I got was this stupid router! Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!rutgers!njin!princeton!phoenix!jwbirdsa From: jwbirdsa@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (James Webster Birdsall) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Red Alert Keywords: Virtual Interface Slowdown Bad Message-ID: <15496@phoenix.Princeton.EDU> Date: 19 Apr 90 18:39:30 GMT Organization: Princeton University, NJ Lines: 83 Suddenly a klaxon starts going off in the rafters, and red light of indeterminate source begins flashing on and off. Red Alert, a synthesized voice announces. Red Alert. This unit is on Red Alert. Tactical data. Inbound thesis; range, three weeks and closing rapidly. Inbound labs; range unknown. All system resources being diverted. Virtual interface tasks being forced to priority 127 for duration. Estimated system response time: two weeks. Repeat, two weeks. Releasing final burst transmission: {Hello,} says the green tiger as the klaxon and lights shut off. {Our main mail server here is currently being given a body transplant, which probably has something to do with the bouncing mail. If you can't get through to phoenix, try mailing to jwbirdsa@pucc.bitnet, if you can reach bitnet. If worst comes to worst, try reaching me at 71261.1731@compuserve.com. I only log on there about once a week, but compared to my new response time, the lag is insignificant.} {A few other thoughts: everybody keeps talking about how warm and open SF fandom is. Well, I'm here to offer an opposing viewpoint. I've been going to cons for four years now; Philcon and Boskone every year, and I made it to the WorldCon in Boston last summer. And you know what I see at cons?} {I see people travelling in insulated groups that carefully maneuver around each other. Interaction between groups seems to be limited to comments on the order of 'Nice shirt/button/costume/etc.' Mixed groups do form around authors and other celebrities, but the focus there is on the celeb, and interaction between other members of the group is minimal.} {There are exceptions, but they do seem to be exceptions rather than the rule. I am somehow always very conscious of belonging to my group and not any other group, even when I'm wandering by myself. And parties are the worst. There must be some secret password which allows you to at least listen to a conversation without everybody staring at you funny.} {Maybe if you belong to the right group(s), know the right people, etc., maybe then fandom is warm and open. But otherwise, it really doesn't seem to be.} {Or maybe I just curdle the atmosphere wherever I go. Dunno.} {To Lyra: well, the anonymous lurker may have some point, but not in the way it intended. Sounds like what you mostly need to learn is to not believe the viewpoints of people like said gutless wonder. And I was about your age, too, when I finally learned, on a gut level, that an insult from an someone like that carried no force. If it can't come up with a better reason for NOT having this group than simply labeling us all as psychotics (with no supporting evidence given, either), then I for one feel no obligation to listen to it. I hope you can learn this important lesson soon, because you will be much happier once you have.} {And meanwhile, let's all feel a little pity for this poor soul. I don't know what exactly its problem is, but several possibilities spring to mind: it could be a) a genuine cynic of such intensity as to put Doug to shame, b) somebody who wanted to hurt Lyra for some reason, or c) somebody who felt the need to stir up trouble on the only flameless group in existence.} {And why do I have the sick feeling that the answer is (b)? For pete's sake, why pick on Lyra in particular instead of one of the old hands? If it really believed what it said, why didn't it go after somebody like Jilara, who has been vociferous in our defense?} {Lyra, I hope I'm just being paranoid. But remember, we are here. We are at least as real as it is. And contrary to anything it might have you believe, we do care.} {Incidentally, if it is so ashamed of our place here, then why has it been reading enough to know the address of one of our regulars?} {Well, I'm way overtime on this. It's taken me nearly an hour to get this far. So much for burst transmission.} And the green tiger on the rafters becomes a static image, for a while... -- James W. Birdsall jwbirdsa@phoenix.Princeton.EDU jwbirdsa@pucc.BITNET Compu$erve: 71261,1731 GEnie: J.BIRDSALL2 "For it is the doom of men that they forget." -- Merlin Path: mit-eddie!media-lab!snorkelwacker!ira.uka.de!fauern!tumuc!guug!ixos!news From: f3w@mentor.cc.purdue.edu (Mark Gellis) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Here is my song Message-ID: <886@ixos.UUCP> Date: 19 Apr 90 11:40:12 GMT Sender: news@ixos.UUCP Lines: 3 Ah, another Jim Croce fan. Actually, I'm surprised I haven't heard more of his stuff here, remarks The Man Who Talked with Books. Anyone here a Tom Waits fan, by any chance? Path: mit-eddie!media-lab!snorkelwacker!ira.uka.de!fauern!tumuc!guug!ixos!news From: andyd@pogo.WV.TEK.COM (Laura Davidson) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Maybe you'll see what I mean / poetry Message-ID: <1000@ixos.UUCP> Date: 19 Apr 90 11:53:40 GMT Sender: news@ixos.UUCP Lines: 26 Lyra stands up. "I've written a poem. Perhaps you will see what I mean underneath it." TRUST Two ships meeting in the night Truned their lights on, passing bright. And waved, as they went on their way, Each wishing he could stay. Now each ship was driven For the speck of light then given; By the other blinded in the gloom, Too late they each did see their doom. "Maybe you see what I mean?" She asks, and sits down. -- Copyright by Laura Davidson. May not be reproduced except for personal use. -- A voice said, Look me in the stars |~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~| And tell me truly, men of earth, | Shannalyralythia | If all the soul-and-body scars |________________________________| Were not too much to pay for birth. -Robert Frost, A Question Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!brutus.cs.uiuc.edu!psuvax1!psuvm!emd101 From: EMD101@psuvm.psu.edu Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Callahan's Mud Message-ID: <90109.133723EMD101@psuvm.psu.edu> Date: 19 Apr 90 17:37:23 GMT Organization: Penn State University Lines: 128 >go east You push open the heavy oaken door... Callahan's Place This is Callahan's Place, that legendary bar where shared pain is diminished, shared joy increased! The bar itself is to the east, and the huge redheaded Irishman behind it gives you a welcoming nod. To the south a bulletin board hangs on the wall near a dartboard; both contain darts and a collection of notes. To the north is a large fireplace, and ten feet before it a white line has been chalked onto the floor. The main exit is west. Other corners of the room look more private, but still friendly. Enthusiastic discussions, puns, happy patrons and flying peanuts can be encountered in all directions. > go east At the Bar The barman grins. "What'll it be?" > "I'll have a root beer, thanks." Mike accepts your single and hands you your drink. > go northeast At the Chalk Line You approach the chalk line. From here you can see that the fireplace is full of glass. Some patrons sit near the fire, but not *too* near. Suddenly some aspects of your life seem so clear, so verbalizeable.. > "To the tiny worlds that exist in our minds, and the large one we share!" (You note that when you speak from this part of the room, your voice seems to echo and resound to the far corners. Strange.) > toast You fling your glass into the fireplace, where it shatters in a most satisfying way. > go south Feeling much better after your toast, you relinquish the floor. Callahan's Place > go northwest You head off into one of the room's nearby corners... Oktave's Corner Here a medium-sized table has been pushed against the wall, and a few chairs sit near it. On the table five or six neat stacks of physics books are suggestive of some strange new version of 'the tower of Hanoi'. Near them are stacks of music paper, some pens, and a set of handcrafted hardwood pentominoes. An open bag of pretzels with an index card taped to it sits on one of the chairs. And a map of the world, in Cetecean Projection, hangs on the wall. > read card "The cost of the pretzels is the reciprocal of the dirac delta function at (p-1) where p is the number of pretzels you want." > take bag You can have a pretzel, but leave the rest for others to enjoy, hey? > get pretzel You happily devour the crunchy prize. Yum! > examine books You notice that some of them are linguistics books instead. You also find a piece of paper sticking out of a book about semiconductor physics. > read paper 'Twas Brillouin, and the polarons Did sign and symbol, end to end; Unstable were the excitons, And the lattice zincblende. "Beware the oxide charge, my son, The ions dire that pull and trap! Beware high field effects, and shun The forbidden energy gap!" Onto the mean free path he set, And drifted onward with the field; And he had no fear of the oxide here, Which had been twice annealed. But as in steady state he went, The oxide charge loomed sudden near -- The bias made the bands all bent; The lattice went all queer! C, V! C, V! and in time t Electric fields went crickle-crack! He dodged and spun, and when he'd won, He went diffusing back. "And hast thou slain the oxide charge? Then be thou proud, my carrier fine! Oh joyous grace, safe interface! Now go, and recombine!" 'Twas Brillouin, and the polarons Did sign and symbol, end to end; Unstable were the excitons, and the lattice zincblende. > go southeast Callahan's Place