Path: mit-eddie!bu.edu!bu-cs!bu-pub.bu.edu!ckd From: ckd@bu-pub.bu.edu (Christopher Davis) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Sometimes it comes out right... Message-ID: Date: 1 Feb 90 16:04:19 GMT References: Sender: news@bu.edu.bu.edu Reply-To: ckd@bu-pub.bu.edu (Christopher Davis) Organization: Boston University School of Management Lines: 66 In-reply-to: hildebrd@cs.swarthmore.edu's message of 31 Jan 90 01:22:29 GMT On 31 Jan 90 01:22:29 GMT, hildebrd@cs.swarthmore.edu (Jeff Hildebrand) said: > "To listening! May we all find happiness and understanding from it!" Chris walks up to the line, carring an IBM 3278. "Hear, hear!" he says as he heaves the terminal into the fireplace. "Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say." "The continuing thread of 'I'm a senior, I don't have a chance now, etc' has been nicely refuted, I think, by Hildebaby. Keep in mind that in two weeks you have a perfect excuse to give that special someone some surprising something special. Sorta. Or to put it less alliteratively, why not get a flower, or a small box of chocolate, or something, and give it to that cute person you've been eyeing in Econ? "Naturally, a little advance research to see if they're already seeing someone helps, but the worst that'll happen is you'll have to eat the chocolates yourself... "Does it work? Well, two years ago I asked a friend-of-a-friend out on a 'friendly get-out-of-the-dorm-no-strings-attached not-quite-date,' as she put it. By the end of the evening we were making plans for the rest of the weekend. We broke up a while back, but stay friends. "I'm a senior, with my own handicaps in the 'Game of Love,' so don't think I don't understand the situation. However, I'm once again reaching the point where I just want to go and do stuff with friends, and if something happens, well, it happens. "To quote four guys whose music I'm listening to now: Hey Jude Don't make it bad Take a sad song and make it better Remember to let her into your heart Then you can start to make it better [...] For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool By making his world a little colder... [...] Na, na, na, na na na na, na na na na, hey Jude... Na, na, na, na na na na, na na na na, hey Jude... Na, na, na, na na na na, na na na na, hey Jude... Na, na, na, na na na na, na na na na, hey Jude... [...] "Hey, the last part's the fun part. Even *I* can remember the words. "Mike? A milk. Chocolate. [gulp] "To those who make music for us all, and to those who only sit and listen!" [crash] -- [ Christopher Davis, BU SMG '90 ] "...and don't forget the mutant newts." --Lois McMaster Bujold Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!mcsun!ukc!harrier.ukc.ac.uk!spt1 From: spt1@ukc.ac.uk (S.P.Thomas) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Sometimes it comes out right... Message-ID: <3767@harrier.ukc.ac.uk> Date: 1 Feb 90 15:09:55 GMT References: Reply-To: spt1@ukc.ac.uk (Stephen Thomas) Organization: Computing Lab, University of Kent at Canterbury, UK. Lines: 20 In article hildebrd@cs.swarthmore.edu (Jeff Hildebrand) writes: > > [... happy story ...] > > "To the lonely out there, hang in there. It can happen when you least >expect it. I certainly did not expect this to happen. > > "To listening! May we all happiness and understanding from it!" A hithertoo unheard voice speaks from an obscure corner. "Lets hear it for happy tails!" The speaker, a young man with dark brown hair and a face that always looks as if it is frowning, sits back into the shadows with a rare smile on his face ... -- ____ _____ _____ _____ || Never give fate an even chance. |____ | |__ \ / |__ ||============================================ ____| | |____ \/ |____ || Stephen Thomas | spt1@ukc.ac.uk | Computing ============================= || Lab, University of Kent at Canterbury. Path: mit-eddie!bloom-beacon!shelby!csli!cphoenix From: cphoenix@csli.Stanford.EDU (Chris Phoenix) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Sometimes it comes out right... Message-ID: <12047@csli.Stanford.EDU> Date: 1 Feb 90 17:47:09 GMT References: Sender: cphoenix@csli.Stanford.EDU (Chris Phoenix) Reply-To: cphoenix@csli.stanford.edu (Chris Phoenix) Organization: Center for the Study of Language and Information, Stanford U. Lines: 11 No one intended Callahan's to be a place where the only news was bad news. I can't speak for everyone, but I didn't find your posting insensitive at all, and I need to be reminded once in a while that such things are possible. I'm truly happy for you, and I hope things keep going as well as they are. Thanks for sharing with us. -- Chris Phoenix | A harp is a nude piano. cphoenix@csli.Stanford.EDU | "More input! More input!" ...And I only kiss your shadow, I cannot see your hand, you're a stranger now unto me, lost in the dangling conversation, and the superficial sighs... Path: mit-eddie!mit-amt!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!ucsd!sdcc6!sdbio2!secbh1 From: secbh1@sdbio2.ucsd.edu (Lori Stahlman) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Sometimes it comes out right... Message-ID: <6848@sdcc6.ucsd.edu> Date: 1 Feb 90 19:30:42 GMT References: <12047@csli.Stanford.EDU> Sender: news@sdcc6.ucsd.edu Reply-To: secbh1@sdbio2.ucsd.edu (Lori Stahlman) Organization: University of California, San Diego Lines: 69 Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Betsy Bo Crashes Callahans Summary: Expires: Sender: Reply-To: secbh1@sdbio2.ucsd.edu (Lori Stahlman) Followup-To: Distribution: Organization: University of California, San Diego Keywords: .sp The door swings open. A tall woman in a rumpled linen dress stands in the portal and, raising her sunglasses, peers into the semi-darkness. Warm washes of damp sunshine pour around her into what seems to be, as her eyes, adjust, a rather large room with more corners than she'd care to count. She steps forward and lets the door swing shut. .sp Had she been a man, Betsy Bo would have been the handsomest man alive. But being female as she was, her face never looked quite right on her, with its long nose and squarish chin. She scrapes back an untidy lock of curly red hair as she steps up to the bar and extends her hand (and a big merry smile) to the barkeep. .sp "Howdy-do. My name is Betsy Bo. I understand your name is Mike. Glad to know you." The barkeep, stunned by her forwardness, automatically offers his hand, which she shakes vigorously. .sp "Seems to me you have quite an interesting place here. Everyone knows how to write well, and they all seem to be pretty honest and straightforward with each other. I like that. So if you all don't mind, I'll just get myself a drink and settle right in. A Shirley Temple, Mike." She opens the giant leather bag she carries slung over one shoulder and fishes out a surprisingly uncrumpled one-dollar bill. The drink and the bill slide across the bar parallel to each other. She drops her bag to the floor and steps up to the chalk line. .sp "Everybody?" .sp Most everybody looks up. The bunny continues to mumble to herself behind a small, sliding fortress of books and papers. .sp "On my last yearly mental health checkup, my shrink gave me this great chunk of advice. I had just LJBFed my longtime boyfriend and was feeling pretty guilty about it because I knew I'd hurt him as surely as I knew, deep down, that it would never have worked. So my shrink said, 'Don't worry about it. You'll figure out what works best for you. Most people don't really feel settled down until they're out of college for a few years at least. I wasn't comfortable in my own skin until I was thirty-seven.' Sheesh. Talk about relief. Here I'd been thinking that my school would take this lump of adolescent blood and bones and spit out a fully functional adult five years later. .sp "So here's to figuring it all out. May it be a lifelong adventure." .sp Betsy Bo lifts the cherry out of her drink and chomps it down. In three big gulps the glass is empty. .sp <> (tinkle tinkle) .sp "That's kinda fun. Your stemware distributor must _love_ you." .sp She scoops up her bag and chooses a table in the spacious center of the room. She winks at Krill before she pulls out a copy of Wendell Berry's _Home Economics_ and settles in to read. Path: mit-eddie!bu.edu!bu-cs!bucsf!gilly From: gilly@bucsf.bu.edu (Gilly Rosenthol) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Evidence that god is an iron Message-ID: Date: 1 Feb 90 21:12:50 GMT References: <4888@convex.convex.com> Sender: news@bu.edu.bu.edu Reply-To: gilly@bucsf.bu.edu (Gilly Rosenthol) Distribution: alt Organization: Boston University Lines: 22 In-reply-to: schumach@convex.com's message of 25 Jan 90 18:12:44 GMT In article <4888@convex.convex.com> schumach@convex.com (Richard A. Schumacher) writes: "If there is a god, it must be an iron, to paraphase Spider. 'Know ye them by their fruits', and so on. Coming out of my ophthalmologist today, I get into the car, turn on the radio and hear Jackson Browne's 'Doctor My Eyes'. This ends and goes to an ad, so I flip stations. There's Elton John singing 'your eyes are blind, but you see more than I...'". He sips the beer. "What else was there to do but turn off the radio and drive straight here?" Gilly tries to hide a smile in her mug of hot chocolate. "Don't tell me you're going to try to get blind drunk and make a spectacle of yourself?" she asks, and ducks the shower of peanuts that are thrown at her. "Ouch! Contact!" she cries as some hit her. "I didn't know there was any prescription against puns here!" -- +--------------------+-------------------------------------------------------+ | Gilly Rosenthol |"Don't dream it, be it" -The Rocky Horror Picture Show | | gilly@bucsb.bu.edu |"On ne voit bien qu'avec le coeur. | | | L'essentiel est invisible aux yeux." -Le Petit Prince | +--------------------+-------------------------------------------------------+ Path: mit-eddie!bu.edu!bu-cs!lll-winken!uwm.edu!psuvax1!psuvm!emd101 From: EMD101@psuvm.psu.edu Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: A Little Dream (anyone for an (n+1)-et?) Message-ID: <90032.165839EMD101@PSUVM.BITNET> Date: 1 Feb 90 21:58:39 GMT References: <8wlbrad01@ULKYVX.bitnet> Organization: Penn State University Lines: 35 In article <8wlbrad01@ULKYVX.bitnet>, wlbrad01@ULKYVX.BITNET (Last O' The Cupids) describes the following scene, following oktave's invitation: > >A semi-lurking Cupid [that's him] takes a small metal object from the box, >and works it around with his hands for a moment, warming it up. Eventually >he places it to his lips. [It's a mouth harp, in case you missed it..] > >...the Cupid plays a few blues cycles ... > > The Cupid stands now, still playing, as the whispers in the bar >fade to silence. He switches from a style of blues to a straight melody >in the key of A. It's a common song, you've heard it before, but you >can't place it. He takes a flower from the centerpiece on his table and >begins to stroll around the room. You recognize the song...The Rose. > > How fitting. > > He finishes the last verse and chorus in front of the short >nameless girl with purple socks, takes the textbook from her lap and >lays it on the table, places the rose over her left ear, strokes her >cheek, takes her hand, and kisses it. A small round of applause >from the crowd follows. > > He looks her in the eyes and whispers "I know it's not much. >And I don't know how to play Canasta. But may I join the n-tet?" > The girl is staring frankly, failing to melt before his gaze, eyebrows raised at the patent audacity of this total stranger who dares to touch her cheek (much less her physics book). She tolerates the hand-kissing, tense, but not flinching. When he steps back outside her personal space again, she decides on a crooked grin, glancing at the rose where it dangles in midair a few inches above her ear. Rolling her eyes, she nods for him to have a seat. Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!pt.cs.cmu.edu!andrew.cmu.edu!haste+ From: haste+@andrew.cmu.edu (Dani Zweig) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: A Little Dream Message-ID: Date: 2 Feb 90 00:22:04 GMT Organization: Graduate School of Industrial Administration, Carnegie Mellon, Pittsburgh, PA Lines: 34 A Virtual n-tet? A moment ago, the man sitting inconspicuously in plain view was an indistinct study in greyish. Suddenly he is very much *in* the room. And a second look at his clothes (not that anyone was taking a first look) shows that they are more a dull silver than grey. With a smile, he reaches into a small pocket and pulls out a recorder not much longer than his hand, and brings it towards his lips. A very old ballad perhaps, he thinks, or maybe a filk song that's not old at all. (It's often hard to tell them apart on the basis of the music alone. It is a perennial source of disappointment to Dani that the recorder is so unhelpful an instrument for accompanying a song.) A number of people in the room have obviously played with him before: He is the recipient of several Significant Looks which seem to be saying "that instrument won't be too high pitched if we first embed it in a potato". Sigh. It's been too long since he was playing with them regularly. (Or maybe not long enough: One small mistake, for Pete's sake!) Reaching into a bag by his chair he starts to withdraw a second recorder, twice as long as the first. Most of the Significant Looks have aimed themselves elsewhere. The one closest to the door points significantly to a longer case by Dani's feet. Nah, this is compromise enough for now. Lowering the still-unplayed instrument and turning to the girl with the textbook: "That sounds like a wonderful idea! And...would you like to play a game of Virtual Canasta while you wait for the others? I'll deal :-)" --Dani Zweig haste@andrew.cmu.edu My old clock used to tell the time/And subdivide diurnity; But now it's lost both hands and chime/And only tells eternity. --Piet Hein (grooks) Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!apple!mips!bridge2!3comvax!tymix!oolong.Tymnet.COM!baba From: baba@oolong.Tymnet.COM (Baba Rum Dudu) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: A Toast Message-ID: <3252@tymix.UUCP> Date: 2 Feb 90 02:14:44 GMT Sender: news@tymix.UUCP Reply-To: baba@oolong.Tymnet.COM (Baba Rum Dudu) Distribution: alt Organization: Filed by a Crazy Zen Monkey Lines: 31 You first notice the individual in the hooded robe as he moves to the line. He raises his small crystal glass in the firelight the contents seem preternaturally purple, glowing with a power all its own. His hood falls back to reveal smiling eyes and a greying beard. Not a word is being spoken. The moment calls for a deep breath, so you close your eyes and oblige. While your eyes rest from the violet rays you fell a warmth covering you heart, as tho a hand from some gentle healer resides there. Your eyes snap open in surprise but there is only the man at the line holding the glass that glows. As your eyes close again to concentrate on the warmth at your breast the glass fractures in the fireplace drowning the spoken toast and the warmth spreads over and through your body. The fire now contains a violet chord that was not noticible before. A feeling of calmness, solidity and, one might say, mellow falls upon the gathering. You realize that you were not the only recipient of the healing offered. The man chuckles faintly as he heads for the door, feeling the glow in himself. Someone closer to the bar is asking Mike a question, "Hey, what was that toast?" Mike answers, as tho from far away, "Forgiveness." d'baba Duane Hentrich ...!hplabs!oliveb!tymix!baba Claimer: These are only opinions since everything I know is wrong. Copyright notice: If you're going to copy it, copy it right. Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!cs.utexas.edu!uwm.edu!lll-winken!bu.edu!bu-cs!bu-pub.bu.edu!ckd From: ckd@bu-pub.bu.edu (Christopher Davis) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Evidence that god is an iron (PUNS) Message-ID: Date: 2 Feb 90 03:47:36 GMT References: <4888@convex.convex.com> Sender: news@bu.edu.bu.edu Reply-To: ckd@bu-pub.bu.edu (Christopher Davis) Distribution: alt Organization: Boston University School of Management Lines: 10 In-reply-to: gilly@bucsf.bu.edu's message of 1 Feb 90 21:12:50 GMT >>>>> On 1 Feb 90 21:12:50 GMT, gilly@bucsf.bu.edu (Gilly Rosenthol) said: > "I didn't know there was any prescription against puns here!" "Ah, that's shed some light on the subject... A cornea pun, true, but of a rather... vitreous humor. Yes, we have many apt pupils here...." -- [ Christopher Davis, BU SMG '90 ] "...and don't forget the mutant newts." --Lois McMaster Bujold Path: mit-eddie!rutgers!cs.utexas.edu!samsung!brutus.cs.uiuc.edu!apple!sun-barr!newstop!texsun!convex!convex.com From: schumach@convex.com (Richard A. Schumacher) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Evidence that god is an iron Message-ID: <5084@convex.convex.com> Date: 2 Feb 90 00:02:04 GMT References: <4888@convex.convex.com> Sender: news@convex.com Distribution: alt Lines: 9 Gilly! Owwwww! Groan.. Is there some law against ocularity here? But I must say, you're a very apt pupil... Mike, another bottle of that Third Red Eye Whiskey, please. Ahh, that's better! Sing with me now: "When Iris Eyes Are Smiling..." Hey, peanuts are for eating, not flinging. What's the matter, song too cornea for you? [The Shoeless One, grinning evilly, retreats under a hail of groans and peanut shells.]