[5439] in Central_America
New quotes for Fri May 6
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Central America)
Fri May 6 03:55:39 1994
Date: Fri, 6 May 1994 03:55:02 -0400
From: Central America <root@charon.MIT.EDU>
To: ca-mtg@charon.MIT.EDU
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hecovert (Howard E Covert):
"Without music, life would be a mistake." (Nietzsche)
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hss (Hany Saleeb):
If not logged in, I was geeking until: Thu May 5 23:23:07 EDT 1994
,-^; "For everything there is a season, and @@@@@
/ /\| and a time for every matter under heaven." @@@@@@@@@@@
_--'' ) ~ -- Ecclesiates 3:1 @@@@@@@@@@@@@
,;`( )_--''--; @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
// // _ @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
' | __ / Don't take life too seriously; @\XXXXXXXXX/
____/ \_____/ you won't get out of it alive. @\XXXXXXX/
\XXXXX/
\XXX/
\X/
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kdmiller (Kenneth D Miller):
void main(){char b[17];int a=0,c=0,d; /* / for a good time, email: \ */
while(c!=-1){printf("%07x0:",a++);for /* ( kdmiller@athena.mit.edu ) */
(d=0;d<16;d++){c=getchar();b[d]=(c<' ' /* \ (Kenneth D. Miller III) / */
||c>'~')?'.':c;printf( "%s%02x",d&3?"":" ",c&255);}printf(" | %s\n",b);}}
Sorry, I'm not on right now. Try again later...
Last logout: Thu May 5 03:25:42 EDT 1994
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marthag (Martha H Greenberg):
home address:
32 Calvin St #1
Somerville, MA 02143
(617)666-9513
alternate home # (try the top one first):
(617)666-5482
work address:
Bolt Beranek and Newman
10 Moulton St.
Cambridge, MA 02140
617-873-4584
marthag@bbn.com
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
the silicon chip inside her head
gets switched to overload
and nobody's gonna to go to school today,
she's gonna make them stay at home
and daddy doesn't understand it
he always said she was good as gold
and he can see no reasons,
'cause there are no reasons,
what reason do you need to be sure
Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
I gonna shoot
the whole thing down
the telex machine is kept so clean
and it types to a waiting world
and daddy feels so shocked
mommy's world is rocked
and their thoughts turn to their own little girl
sweet sixteen ain't that peachy keen
now it ain't so neat to admit defeat
they can see no reasons,
'cause there are no reasons,
what reasons do you need
Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
I gonna shoot
the whole thing down
and all the playing stopped in the playground now
she wants to play with the toys a while
and school's out early
and soon we'll be learning
that the lesson today is how to die
and then the bullhorn crackles
the captain tackles
with the problems and the hows and whys
and he can see no reasons,
'cause there are no reasons,
what reason do you need to die
and the silicon chip inside her head
gets switched to overload
and nobody's gonna to go to school today,
she's gonna make them stay at home
and daddy doesn't understand it
he always said she was good as gold
and he can see no reasons,
'cause there are no reasons,
what reason do you need to be sure
Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
I wanna shoot
the whole thing down.
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nosaj (Jason M Sachs):
The following is an excerpt from the current version of ``Seems to Me'',
(c) 1993-1994 Jason M. Sachs.
- - - -
``Dear Mister President.... Hello... remember me?... I wanted to go...
to your... inauguration... but... I wasn't... able... to make it... to
Washington... for the... occasion.... How are you feeling...
today?... Did they fix... your--- Frank, how do you spell `nose'?''
That's Mrs. Grinswalder, if you didn't recognize her already. We
decided to go on a picnic today. There's this field between Arlington
National Cemetery and the Potomac River where the daisies bloom and
the grass dances in the warm breeze during the springtime.
Unfortunately, it's November right now, but it's still a nice field to
have a picnic in. Mrs. Grinswalder is in the middle of writing a
letter; I'm not doing much, just helping her out and enjoying the
scenery.
It's been a long time since I first met Mrs. Grinswalder. I don't
remember much from that far back, but I've seen her go through a lot,
enough to make it worth going on a picnic this time of year. I don't
understand why flowers don't want to bloom in November....
* * * * * *
``Hi, Frank,'' she said, as I came to a stop by the side of the
interstate a few years ago. ``You're up early. Heh heh heh.'' Mrs.
Grinswalder laughs like that most of the time, like she has some sort
of secret joke she's not sharing with you. You have to humor her. If
you know Mrs. Grinswalder personally, you probably know what I mean.
I stuck my head out the window of the rusty old pickup truck I drive,
and said hello, and howdy, and yes, it was early, and all the
necessary trifles that you have to say to Mrs. Grinswalder. My name's
Roy, by the way. I don't know why she calls me Frank, but like I
said, you have to humor her.
Mrs. Grinswalder has a sort of traveling dessert stand, which she
walked back towards as I got out of the pickup truck. It consists of a
couple of upside-down milk crates, a folding chair, a pair of tent
posts with a banner that says ``FRESH PEAR BOTTOM PIES!! DELICIOUS!!''
strung between them, and the burnt umber-colored jeep that she keeps
parked to the side. She'll correct you if you call it a black jeep,
because she had the paint specially mixed to match her favorite crayon
color, so you have to call it a burnt umber jeep if you want to stay
on her good side.
She got another folding chair out of the back of the burnt umber jeep,
and put it next to hers, and told me to sit down.
``Got a long trip ahead of you?'' she asked. ``Heh heh heh.''
``Just a little dash up to Norfolk.''
``Want some pear bottom pie?'' She pointed to the pies that were
sitting on top of the upside-down milk crates. I still don't know
what pear bottom pie is; she never did tell me what she put in it.
Whatever it is, it tastes pretty good.
``Ummm... maybe a little. I didn't have much for breakfast; watery
eggs and charred bacon don't exactly make my day.'' Bleah. If you
ever run into a place called ``The Smoldering Barn'', don't stop; just
keep on going.
``Oh-hhhh. How 'bout a whole pie, then?''
``No, just a slice. I---'' She was gesturing over to the highway sign
by the side of the road. It's a well-known fact that all highways have
signs somewhere, and she makes no effort to avoid them. This time she
and her dessert stand were smack dab in the middle of North Carolina.
``Hey, don't you already have N.C. 95?'' Mrs. Grinswalder has this
habit when it comes to signs. She likes to--- well, you'll see.
``Nope. Not yet. Heh heh heh.'' She cut me a slice of pie and I got
out my dollar, and we traded hostages, as she likes to put it. One
dollar a slice, payable in nothing but a dollar bill with an `E' or an
`F' on the left-hand seal (the `E' means it's from the Federal Reserve
Bank in Richmond; the `F' means it's from Atlanta). Or a five dollar
bill for a whole pie, same restrictions. Napkins, paper plates, and
plastic forks not included since she doesn't bring them. You don't
really need them, anyway; she doesn't care if you eat with your hands,
and it's not a really a problem unless, as she says, you've been
handling toxic waste or sick kids recently, or you tend to get contact
rashes from pie crust.
So I ate up my slice of pear bottom pie, and we talked for a while,
until some skinny guy in a Saab pulled over, rolled down the window,
and asked what pear bottom pie was.
``Heh heh heh heh heh....'' she said, and I had to cover my mouth to
keep from laughing too hard.
We walked over to the Saab, since he didn't look like he was going to
get out. Mrs. Grinswalder went over the terms of the deal; he began to
look more and more like he had to be somewhere else.
``What exactly is it, though?'' he asked.
``Heh heh heh heh heh....''
``Hmmm....'' He took out his wallet and fished around for a dollar
bill, and found a few, though they were all `C'-seals, and after
watching him argue with Mrs. Grinswalder for a while, I finally
offered to trade him an `E'-seal for one of his mediocre dollar bills
from Philadelphia. I always carry a few extras for such an occasion.
She took the dollar bill, examined it, and walked back over to the
milk crates to cut him a slice. ``Hey,'' he said in a hushed voice,
``what's pear bottom pie?''
``I don't know, but I don't think there's any pear in it. Hmmm....''
I licked the last traces of the pear bottom pie off my fingers.
``Tastes sort of like Twinkies.''
She brought back the slice of pie, and as he was eating it, he began
fiddling with something on the dashboard of the Saab and mumbled
something about fuel efficiency.
``Well, Jerry?'' I don't know where she got that from. I think she
makes up her own names for people when she meets them. You know,
someone looks like a Bob, another guy looks like an Ernie, somebody
else looks like a Winston P. Stokes III---this guy must have looked
like a Jerry. Personally, I thought he looked more like a Gilligan.
``How is it?''
``Hmmm... Oh, not bad,'' he said. ``It's got a, ummm... tangy
taste---''
``Want some more to take with you?''
``Well, I.... Hey, come on! What's in this stuff, really?''
``Heh heh heh....'' Some people don't take a hint. ``So, Jerry...,''
she said, looking into his eyes, her head tilted to one side, her
hands behind her back, ``would you do me a favor if I gave you a whole
pie?'' Mrs. Grinswalder brought her hands out in front of her,
producing a perfect pear bottom pie from out of nowhere. The surface
of the pie sparkled in the sunlight... or maybe it just looked that
way because of the glitter she says she doesn't put into it. Anyway,
the guy in the Saab took one look at the pie, and began stammering, in
a hypnotized sort of way. He reached out the window towards the pie,
and almost touched the pie plate before she slapped him on the wrists
and smiled. Gosh, I'm glad she doesn't pull that routine on me.
``You see that sign over there, Jerry?'' She pointed to the highway
sign again, the red & blue shield which said `95' in big white numbers
and `NORTH CAROLINA' just above in small white capital letters. ``Go
over there and get it for me, and you can have the pie.''
``You want the *road sign*?''
``Yep. Heh heh heh heh....''
``But... but... it's a road sign. You can't just walk over there and
pull it out of the ground!''
``You can try, can't you, Jerry?''
He stopped to consider it for a while.
``You're crazy, lady.'' He rolled up the window, started up the
ignition, licked his fingers, and drove off.
* * * * * *
I think Mrs. Grinswalder would get a lot more business if she didn't
trouble people with her sign fetish. I mean, I'll bet that Jerry guy
would have forked over a twenty, the way he was looking at that pie.
But Mrs. Grinswalder would rather have the signs. Oh, well.
* * * * * *
We sat back down on the folding chairs; Mrs. Grinswalder went on about
the people she'd met, and I listened. ``And then there were the
Vinnlemans, Mr. & Mrs. and the two kids. Cute little brats. Heh heh
heh. All they wanted to do was play bingo, and Mr. Vinnleman didn't
have a bingo set, so instead of bingo, they played Annoy Daddy.
`Bingo, bingo, bingo! Dadddddddyyyyyyyyy! Bingo!' You could hear them
loud and clear. Heh heh heh. Frank, didn't you ever do something like
that?'' I nodded, which is a safe thing to do in situations like this.
``Heh heh heh heh. I knew it. Well, he came over and asked about the
pie; Mrs. Vinnleman stayed in the car and kept yelling about her back
pains. Back pains! Heh heh heh.... The kids came running out to follow
Daddy. They took one look at these beauties....'' She pointed to the
pies. ``...and kept up the Annoy Daddy game. `Pear bomb pie, pear bomb
pie... Dadddddyyyyy... I want some pear bomb pie....' Heh heh heh...
cute kids. Well, he didn't have the right dollar bills, so I told him
he could get me the sign... this was on Interstate 40 in Tennessee,
by the way... He got that sign loose eventually, after ripping the
sleeve of his suit.... Frank, how much do suits cost? Three hundred
dollars? Does that sound right?'' I nodded again. ``Good, because I
want you to come with me sometime and we'll pick one out for you. You
should wear a suit sometime.'' I had to stop myself from going ``Heh
heh heh'' right back at her. ``Well, anyway, so I gave him the pie
and took a picture of him and his two kids and his poor sufferin' wife
in the car. They went back to the car, and I think he was cutting them
pieces of the pie---families on the road always have plastic forks and
spoons and knives, don't they?---and the next thing I heard was
`Daddddyyyyy! Bingo, bingo, bingo!' Heh heh heh... you can't win, can
you.''
I'd heard most of the stories before, but I don't mind, I guess. I
like to listen to Mrs. Grinswalder's stories. And if she's not
careful, sometimes she forgets what she's doing and offers me a piece
of pie by mistake. She was about to at that point---I could tell---but
then we were interrupted by a pair of bikers.
- - - -
to be continued...
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therese (Therese):
Bits and pieces, bits and pieces.
People.
People important to you, people unimportant to you cross your
life. Touch it with love and carelessness and move on.
There are people who leave you and you breathe a sigh of relief
and wonder why you ever came into contact with them.
There are people who leave you and you breathe a sigh of remorse
and wonder why they had to go away and leave such a gaping hole.
Children leave parents; friends leave friends, acquaintances
grow apart.
Enemies hate and move on.
Friends love and move on.
You think of the many who have moved into your hazy memory.
You look on those present and wonder.
I believe in God's master plan in life. He moves people in and
out of each other's lives, and each leaves his mark on the
other. You find you are made up of bits and pieces of all who
ever touched your life, and you are more because of it, and you
would be less if they had not touched you.
Pray to God that you accept the bits and pieces, in humility and
wonder, and never question and never regret.
Bits and pieces, bits and pieces.
- L. Channey
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twm (Barney = Satan):
{from system: This user's .plan file is not world-readable}
--- End of Central America ---
