|| -------- -- -----  A E R I E   O B L I V I A N A . singular book of text wandertainment by Frank Edward Nora ------------------- ----------- OSOAWEEK--ISSUE 070--11/24/95 <-------  ||  OsoaWeek  ||  Issues  ||  Book 6  ||  -------> (Cup OWis070, Created v1 (4/27/99), Copyright 1999) = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = [[BEGIN070OW]] [[01070CV]] * * * O S O A W E E K 0 7 0 * * * November 24, 1995 "The weekly ezine of Obliviana Super Occult Amusement!" by Frank Edward Nora CONTENTS 01 070 CV--Cover 02 070 HR--Hemisinister Review 03 070 LA--Lord of Obliviana 04 070 NH--Nihilistica 05 070 SU--Superior 06 070 SR--Severe Repair OsoaWeek070, November 24, 1995 5th issue of OsoaWeek Book 6 Written by Frank Edward Nora Published weekly by Obliviana Super Occult Amusement (E-mail address in transition) 1-800-OBLIVIANA http://www.obliviana.com/~osoa All contents copyright 1995 Frank Edward Nora Regarding this file, you are free to make digital copies, so long as they're not altered or sold. All other forms of reproduction require permission. A CupFrontier containing this file will be available. Stay tuned for more details. Character count: 57336 / Line count: 1617 / Days late: 28 *OW* [[02070HR]] Hemisinister Review ***MOVIES*** THE EIGER SANCTION Mid-'70s spy-type intrigue thriller directed by and starring Clint Eastwood, certainly a classic. Full of quotable lines and wonderful, evil characters, such as the homo Miles Mellow and the Indian girl George. Brings to mind the atmosphere of the best Bond films, but much grittier. See it, dammit! TOY STORY First feature films done with 100% computer animation, about toys that come to life. A great movie--well-written and inventive. Lots of fun characters and situations. But looming over the whole thing is the terrible realization that it's only a matter of time before human actors can be perfectly simulated using these techniques. Depressing thought, eh? SHOWGIRLS I really liked it, cuz I could see the humor in it, which I believe was intentional. Thing is, the humor is done in such a deadpan manner that the whole thing could easily be perceived as nothing but garbage. Lots of girl nudity adds to the fun too, of course. A lot of stereotypes are explored here, along with much bittersweet commentary. Its problem is that its an underground/art film masquerading as a run-of-the-mill Hollywood nothingfest. My prediction--this film will resurface sometime in the 21st and become a massive cult favorite. TO DIE FOR Gee, Nicole Kidmann is a pretty god damn good actress. She kicks ass as a woman obsessed with becoming a TV news reporter, in a story based on the Pamela Smart case (you know--teacher fucks student, gets him to kill her husband, and they all get caught). Another one of those Phoenix kids shows up here--I forget his name, but it must have been something relating to nature and/or mythology, such as River or Rain. He's alright, but he doesn't give his character much depth. Great movie. If you're intelligent. HEAT Robert Deniro is good, Al Pacino is terrible, and Val Kilmer is dead air. This L.A. crime saga type thing is a ponderous, cinematographally overblown, dull, 3-hour mess--with a few bright spots, but not enough to make it worthwhile. You can see what the director is trying to achieve, and he fails miserably. See "The Usual Suspects" instead--it has a very similar plotline, and unlike "Heat", is a great movie. GOLDENEYE Weak. Very weak. Worst Bond film ever. Pierce Brosnan is a pussy prettyboy. The whole thing looks low-budget. Fuck it. ACE VENTURA WHEN NATURE CALLS Guess they didn't have much money left to make the movie after paying off the fucking superstar. What a lame film. No plot, no story, no cinema--no nothing but a showcase for Jim Carrey's increasingly self-indulgent and unfunny shenanigans. A few funny scenes, but on the whole, piss poor. ***MOVIE REVIEW RECAP*** Here's a list of all 62 movies reviewed in OsoaWeek so far, from best to worst. The first and last spots are pretty secure--Repo Man is undoubtedly my favorite film, and Toys is the worst I've ever seen. Remember this isn't a list of the best and worst movies I've EVER seen--just movies reviewed in OsoaWeek. It just to happens that I reviewed the best and the worst. Okay? Repo Man Twin Peaks Fire Walk With Me The Usual Suspects Joysticks Logan's Run Clerks Gone With the Wind The Eiger Sanction Quintet Mallrats Sirens Pulp Fiction Disclosure Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! Showgirls True Lies The Player Pocahantas Don Juan De Marco Toy Story To Die For Quick Change Natural Born Killers The Indian in the Cupboard The Lion King Barcelona Even Cowgirls Get the Blues Surviving the Game Trespass Die Hard With a Vengeance Cool World The Brady Bunch Movie Heavenly Creatures Speed Singles Dumb and Dumber The Mask Aladdin Night on Earth Forrest Gump Backbeat In the Mouth of Madness Heat French Kiss The Client Time Cop The Crow Waterworld Star Trek: Generations Stargate Goldeneye Dracula Casper Baby's Day Out Tank Girl Clean Slate Ace Ventura When Nature Calls Batman Returns The Flintstones Thumbelina Batman Forever Toys *OW* [[03070LA]] Lord of Obliviana 12/5/95, 5:35 PM 70. Wow. 70's like a pretty big number. 12/6/95, 6:51 AM Time marches on. Yeah, I'm on time today. Last night, I did the dishes, took out the trash, did two loads of laundry AND sorted out the socks. Pretty decent, I must say. Spoke to Kerri last night. She called. We tried to work out all the rent stuff, but didn't. I've embarked on a new Anything But Monday project with Mike Massotto--a book of "Perceptions & Ponderings", the feature headed by "Ever Wonder..." and "Ever Notice...". We started the feature way back in ABM Vol. 1, No. 3, Oct. 1986, over nine years ago. Anything But Monday is a great Revolver. I've been thinking of how best to present it in cyberspace--and I began to realize that I have to present each of my Revolvers separately--as opposed to how everything is mushed together in OsoaWeek. So what are my Revolvers? Severe Repair and Zope are the big ones. Superior and 209 are pretty big, too. What else? Antebellum and Hemisinister Review. Super Objects. Pelter. Balbitype. Lotta stuff. My vision of for a WWW site where all these Revolvers are listed, with a sub-site for each one. When it comes to Revolver, I have to decide what level of hierarchy to settle on. For example, in Severe Repair, Cup's Club could be a Revolver of its own, but looking things as a whole, it's clear to me that Severe Repair itself, and all it contains, is the Revolver. Zope and Superior are also plainly Revolvers. 209 is a little more complicated, as it incorporates a number of elements, such as Friction Enhancer and Storm Codex. But it's plain to me now that 209 is the Revolver. Antebellum is quite undeveloped. It's a video game, but very little work has been done to program it. It's a great idea, so I have to work on it. If you don't know, it takes place in New Jersey, and involves 118 superhero-like Bellums (See the full list in OsoaWeek 001, 12001AB--and issues 27-31 for a detailed description of the first 20 Bellums (only 98 left to do!)). One of the cool things about Antebellum is that it would involve a working model of New Jersey--to whatever level of detail possible. So Antebellum and the New Jersey feature (reviewing cool places in New Jersey) kind of intersect. So I have to decide where the Revolver lies for Antebellum/New Jersey. 12/8/95--6:49 AM--train A few days ago my PowerBook went on a little time travel journey--it thought it was Thursday, June 22, 2006, and stamped a few documents with this date. Huh, ten-and-a-half years from now. I wonder what issue of OsoaWeek will be out on that date? Aw man, this is gonna be tough to figure out. Not really. Figure that every July 28 (July 27 in '96, '00, and '04) will mark another 52 issues. So from 7/28/94 to 7/28/06 is 12 years. Also, once you get to 7/28, that's when the issue AFTER the 52nd issue comes out. Okay. So, 12*52=624. So, OsoaWeek624 will come out about a week before 7/28/06. So I hafta check what day Obliviana Days falls on in 2005. It's a Thursday! So--on June 22, 2006, OsoaWeek620 is scheduled to be released. Wow. I wonder... y'know... if OsoaWeek will last that far. Let's talk about that. How long will OsoaWeek last? I guess I'm thinking along the lines of it becoming obsolete. But--well, of course it might evolve into a format with flashy graphics, audio, video, etc.--but on principle, I believe there should always be an ASCII text version, because ASCII will remain the only universal format for worldwide digital communications well into the next century. The reason is, all these Third World countries are getting hand-me-down computers from First World nations--and the even more fucked-up places will get hand-me-downs from the Third Worlders. So what you'll have is more people wired (I hate that word), but with a huge variety of equipment--the common denominator of which is simple ASCII text. Will OsoaWeek620 come out? What'll be up with Obliviana at that point in time? 10.5 years. 10.5 years AGO was around June 8, 1985. I had just graduated high school. That summer, me and some friends made a Dr. Who movie on video. A few months, and I'd be at Drew University for the first time, with all the wonderful chaos of the next few years yet to occur. The six years, 1990 thru 1995, a time of being lost, yearning, seeking, working, dealing with things. I often wonder what I would have been like by this date, 12/8/95, if Anything But Monday had grown into the success I envisioned, and if I became the celebrity I so craved becoming. I think I would have been a total dick. See, the past six years of real world misery and confusion have given me a valuable reward--maturity. Don't laugh. Just look around you. All the 20-somethings you know--do you see a trend? Living with their parents, no job or go-nowhere job, clinging to fantasies of fame and fortune, making amazing excuses for everything, going nowhere fast. What do you think this is? It's immaturity! It's people who are physically adults, but emotionally still children. The fawning, easy, luxurious, insulated, touchy-feely, "be yourself" childhood we all experienced in the '70s has fucked us all. Liberalism in education fucks whole generations of people. We hear of the brutality of times past and condemn those times. But you know, it was the brutality of those times that allowed human beings to grow to emotional adulthood. Look at the founding fathers. They grew up in the mid-1700's--you think they're upbringing wasn't brutal? Of course it was! But they turned out to be the most important people in history. And don't you fucking America-bashing liberals out there start criticizing the founding fathers of America--go back to your dazed, malcontent, homosexual excuse for a life and stop bad-mouthing the USA. You fucking unappreciative worms--you lash out against America, yet enjoy the benefits of freedom, which millions of young men died to ensure. Hey, if you really don't like America, I think you should REALLY LEAVE. Go to Europe--they're a bunch of liberal fuckheads over there, so you'd feel right at home. Thank you. And let me get off this damn soapbox. Okay. 12/8/95--5:01 PM--train Well, another weekend, and as usual, I have no concrete plans. Even for what I'm going to do once I get to the station, I'm not sure exactly where I'm gonna go. Is this good? I mean, I'm trying to get my life in order, get Obliviana going, all that--so shouldn't I have a rock solid plan of what I'm going to do? Yes. I think that a plan where I spend very little money and make a great deal of progress on my life is a good plan. Thus, staying in my apartment and cleaning it up, sorting out and paying bills, and doing Obliviana is what I should be doing. Monday 12/11/95 6:39 AM train Man, it's cold. Today's high is gonna be like 23, but right now--it's gotta be like 10 or something, with the wind chill--way below zero. Makes me wonder how the folks in International Fall, Minnesota survive, being that this is like WARM weather for them. I mean, they had like -30 in Minnesota WITHOUT the wind chill. So with it, maybe like -70? Like, how much WORSE could that feel? My hands are just now recovering from a minute or two of exposure. I have gloves, it just, it took me a few seconds to put 'em on, and then I had to feed some dollar bills into a token machine, a task not well suited to big, bulky glove. And my toes--they still feel cold too. So--what am I doing? Going to work. Monday. Guess I should start putting the day of the week up there on the day/date entries. The nerd in me figures you could just cross reference a calendar to see what day of the week it was, but that's a total pain in the ass! I actually made a dent in the mess in my apartment--spent most of the weekend on it. Found out that I'm getting a little inheritance from a recently-deceased relative--about enough to pay off all my consumer debt. Wow--just think of it--no more consumer debt... ah, what a beautiful world it would be... Sorting through so much stuff, I inevitably came across items which brought my ex-girlfriend Kerri to mind, and I felt like I was gonna cry at times. Like a program to a local theater production of "Annie", in Bradley Beach. Kerri loves Annie. I remember how we went there, and they were all sold out, and how disappointed Kerri was. But then, we went back, and we managed to get tickets, and it was a great show, and we were happy. Yeah. All the junk in my apartment, every little thing brings back memories--maybe that's why it's so hard for me to organize my stuff. But the future cannot consist of a soup of memories from the past! I must move on, and not be so mired in my past! I do admit, though, that I am fascinated by my past. Especially the last ten years. So much has happened, and I'm still trying to absorb it all. So I guess I AM self-absorbed, like some people tell me. But I don't--I don't FEEL self-centered. It's just--I think I'm pretty interesting. And--and when I look back to the late '80s, say, while I was going to NYU, I'm seeing a persona quite different from the myself of today. I don't know. It's like, society tries to pressure you into NOT being self-oriented, but isn't this an attempt to crush individualism? I'm on an Individualist Trip*, to hell with society. * "Individualist Trip" is a name I came up with years ago for an Area of Baskonontana, in Severe Repair. It also sounds like a good name for a band or something. Anyway, what am I trying to say? Warm and 60+ MPH on the railroad, cutting through the Arctic air of New Jersey, the distance to work shrinking every moment. And every day, one day closer to the last day I'll work at the place I'm working. But is this true? Is there an absolute date that I will no longer work there? Or could my behavior shorten or extend that span of time? Regardless, I will one day cease working there, and every day I get closer to that day. But it COULD be dynamic... I had this dream last night, where I had a sock puppet of a white worm, and it was getting really popular, and I was even gonna perform with it on TV. (The worm puppet is almost certainly based on a tapeworm sketch on Mad TV a few weeks ago.) Anyway, the puppet had a name, but I can't recall it. But in the dream, I was observing how the name sounded like some other word, saying for example "The two Congressmen (blank) each other." I think there was a double L or some other double letter in the name, and maybe a Y at the end. At one point, when I was half-conscious, I was trying to figure out if this worm puppet was something I was familiar with in real life or not, and at first I thought it was--even--must have been. I remember being nervous before the TV show, and I practiced in front of a mirror, and I held that worm puppet too close to my face, and I was all sweaty. Another part of the dream was like a news report showing how Pat Buchanan ate at the same restaurant every morning before walking a little distance to get the train. I thought how I should go and meet him someday, pretending to be going about my business and act surprised when I meet him. Soon in the dream, I did meet him, and we were talking in a friendly manner, and I walked with him to the train. It's funny--I drank a cup of water before I went to bed, and I woke up at 3:30 to piss. If I hadn't drunk the water, the worm dream would have been like, obliterated. But--so what? 17 days late so far. I have to keep focused on the schedule, or else nothing will ever get done. Also, I gotta revamp my WWW site, cuz no issue after 52 is online. I've been rethinking my WWW site. My first attempt, which is still up, segments OsoaWeek into HTML pages, each of which in one feature. The problem with this is that it puts all the features at the same level. I mean, there's no reason, really, to give each Appendix its own page, other than for completeness and internal logic. No, I think the new Obliviana website will have each issue of OsoaWeek on its own, as well as separate sections for various Revolvers. It's possible that the material in the Revolver sections culled from the OsoaWeek issues will be deleted from the issues with a link to them. With this system, the OsoaWeeks will be shorter and more manageable, but then I DO have to add all those links. 12/12/95 * 6:07 PM * train Regarding the organizing of Obliviana, I posit that structuring my new website IS the act of organizing Obliviana. That is, the website will be the expression, the manifestation of the organization. My Mickey Mouse watch broke slightly. The little plastic rod, or whatever you want to call it, that slips into the hole in the band as a fastening mechanism, this broke. It's the watch I bought in Japan in EPCOT, after I lost my bandless Casio. So maybe this sucker can go bandless, too? I dunno. When looking at Revolvers, Obliviana itself is certainly a distinct Revolver--it's the overall system, the game. So--what are to be my initial Revolvers? Since they will each have their own subsite, I have to decide very clearly the demarcations between the Revolvers. * Obliviana * Severe Repair * Zope * Superior * 209 These are the five strongest and clearest Revolvers right now. I, Frank Edward Nora, am lord of each. * Anything But Monday This Revolver, if it comes to be, will be lorded over by Mike Massotto. See, it's my philosophy that each Revolver should have a single lord--the one individual who's ultimately responsible for everything that happens in the Revolver. Certainly there are partnerships, especially in such fields as music, but when multiple people are involved, and all given equal responsibility, bad things happen. So I stand by my philosophy in this matter. ABM is certainly a collaborative effort between Massotto and myself, but his sensibilities are more in tune with the true nature of ABM than mine. 12/13/95 * 7:18 AM * train Before I get back to the Revolvers, I have to relate the events of last night, which occurred shortly after I wrote the stuff above. Okay--I got off the train around 7 PM, and decided to go to Wal-Mart to get some yarn. See, a few weeks ago I found one of my Mobius Crochets (see Friction Enhancer 5 in OsoaWeek014), and started working on it again. This past weekend, I finished the skein (?) of yarn and finalized the Crocheted Mobius. So two nights ago, I went to Caldor, but I couldn't find any yarn anywhere. So, last night, I figured that Wal-Mart was the closest place I was 100% sure would have yarn. So, I drove from the train station to Wal-Mart, no problem. I go into Wal-Mart, get my yarn (a multicolored "Fiesta Jewel" affair), and went back to my Jeep, ready to go home. So what happens? I try to turn on my headlights--or rather--my single headlight, after the other one was demolished by that goddamn deer--and it doesn't go on. I try a few more times, no luck. Now, the other lights are working mind you--the parking lights, whatever you wanna call 'em. But no headlights. Now, this Wal-Mart is 15, 20 minutes away from my apartment, mostly on Route 1. So I was faced with a choice--somehow find an alternate means of transport home, leave my Jeep there, and then the next day take a taxi or whatever BACK to Wal-Mart, after it gets light, and drive it away OR risk driving home with no headlights. What did I do? I said FUCK IT, I'm gonna go for it. So I embarked on my dark journey, at times barely able to see the road, with the constant fear of being pulled over. But somehow, after a rather unnerving trip, I pulled into my apartment's parking lot and let out a raucous YEAH! I MADE IT! What a rush. Driving with no headlights. It was a challenge--a clear, concise, daring challenge--and I succeeded. Now, of course, I still don't have headlights, but I can deal with that problem in a much less emergency-oriented sort of way. Lucky for me, there's a bus that goes from a supermarket parking lot near me to the train station--just a 5-minute walk for me, if that. Now I have to figure out what I'm gonna do--see, I got my insurance payment, less a $500 deductible. So I have to decide if I wanna fix it right and somehow come up with $500, or do a minimal job of it and try to save some money. Hey, I just want two working headlights. I couldn't care less how it looks. My stomach has been bothering me for a few days now. Last year, such pains were a prelude to the stomach superflu--a massively debilitating ailment, which destroyed me for days last year. And I mean, I was in a state where I REALLY, TRULY, NO JOKE could not go to work. Is that what I face now? I sure as hell hope not. Maybe I can beat it. So it's really cold, a big snowstorm's coming tomorrow, my Jeep has no headlights, and I may be getting the stomach superflu again--brilliant! Maybe I'll take a few sick days--make it a four-day weekend. If I get sick, that is. The lights in this train car went out a while ago. Usually they go back on pretty quick, but this time, they're not. No problem for me with a backlit screen, but it's still not bright enough outside to read a newspaper comfortably by. So I've been thinking about this whole headlight incident. First, a few months ago, my headlights (train lights back on right now) fail. I take it to a place near the train station, and get it fixed--bad switch. Then I hit the deer, demolishing one headlight, but leaving the other. Now, for some unknown reason, while sitting quiet and undisturbed in a Wal-Mart parking lot, the remaining headlight dies. But I guess that's one of the danger of driving with only one headlight. But what I've been thinking about is how headlights represent seeing into the future. Headlights reveal the road ahead, cutting through the darkness. Is it a coincidence that I've been having trouble with dealing with my future? That is, I have a vague idea of where I'm going, but nothing concrete--like driving without headlights. I take some meaning from this. But--okay--accepting the challenge to drive home sans headlights--going through with it and succeeding. What does this represent? Maybe that I won't have a very view of the immediate future, but as long as I have a goal--I'll make it there eventually. Hey--this sound a lot like my life for the past six years--I've always had the goal of Obliviana (under different names in the past)--but through those years, the near future was always indistinct. So the message of the Darkdrive is that I will eventually triumph. Hmm... maybe it means that the goal is in sight. You might think that I'm reading way too much into all this, but I think it's far too appropriate just to be a coincidence. As well, streetlights used to always go out when I drove or walked past them--used to happen just about every day. Now, maybe once every couple of weeks. If something in me is making streetlights go out, it might make sense that the same force is making my headlights go out. Ah, what a bizarre line of reasoning. I mean, am I truly weird, or what? I don't know. I just see the winds of change blowing hard the next few days. Snowstorm--superflu--Jeep repairs... I feel there is some danger in this formula of the next few days--I think I should really just take it easy. The bus isn't so bad--only thing is, I gotta get the 6:07 train from New York to make sure I get the last bus back. There's also a 6:12, 6:29, and 6:49--but offer little leeway in terms of being late. Cuz if I miss the 7:45 bus, it's a $10 taxi ride. It makes sense to repair my Jeep right. Then, it'll be cool for resale. But right now, when I'm pinching every penny, $500 will throw me way off out of whack. Oh well. You know, if I ever write my autobiography, all these "Lord of Obliviana" features will be an invaluable aid. I mean, so much of my personal life, sorted out, translated into text, laid bare on the computer screen for all to see... Oh, you might remember I said I wrote stuff about what was going on with me and these girls in New York. Well, the file has grown, and is still growing as events unfold. There's no way I'm gonna release it anytime soon, but eventually, I may. It's called "Chemistry", and if you're a denizen of the far future, you may want to look it up. Into the tunnel under the Hudson. Lotta tunnels under this river--the river that's currently above me. Lincoln and Holland for cars--but quite a few more for trains. Maybe I should find out how many. Well, guess I'll get back to the Revolvers this evening. Read on, my friend, and see how I fare over the next few days off challenge! 12/13/95 * 6:03 PM * train When I got home last night, I started doing Mobius Crochet while watching a Martha Stewart holiday special of some sort, complete with guest appearances by Miss Piggy, Hillary Clinton, and a semi-insane Julia Child. Between the crochet and the Martha Stewart, I started feeling like a woman. Weird feeling. Crochet is cool, though--very relaxing, very soothing. Back to the Revolvers--what did I have so far? * Obliviana * Severe Repair * Zope * Superior * 209 * Anything But Monday Okay. That's 6. 12/15/95 * 7:39 AM * train There's this guy sitting next to me, drinking coffee with one hand and holding a magazine with the other. His breathing and/or laughing sounds like steam escaping from some scary piece industrial machinery. Most annoying. So--the Revolvers. 12/18/95*7:55 AM * Monday 24 days late now. The dream of being on-time is gone for now. Yesterday, after 15 days of facial hair growth, I cut off my mustache and trimmed my beard to give myself the Abe Lincoln look. I know people are gonna make fun of me for it, but I see it as my Lord of Obliviana "look"--and it FEELS right. Besides--my long hair covers most of it, when I wear my hair down and in front of my shoulders. With a pony tail, the beard looks frightening. Yeah. So I'm stuck here on issue 70. What is to be the first issue of 1996? Let's see... OsoaWeek076, January 5, 1996. 18 days from now. Six-and-a-half Severe Repair chapters. 3 days per chapter... the Xmas & New Year's holidays... getting back on time by then seems unlikely. So what about Book Seven? It starts with OsoaWeek079 on Friday, January 26, 1996. Yeah. So I'm feeling a little disheartened. "Chemistry" stuff happening. My apartment is a total disaster area--I made great progress on it over the weekend, but every is all over the place--I'm getting really sick of the mess. My Jeep is back an in one piece. Saturday was interesting--I got a call from the auto body shop, saying the car was done. I couldn't think of a way to get up to North Brunswick, so I said I'd be there on Monday. But then I thought of a plan, called a taxi, and missed the 11:27 AM train--had to get the 12:27. Smoked a cigar in the freezing cold. Got to New Brunswick and took a cab to the shop. Got my wonderful, fixed Jeep and headed over to my ex-girlfriend Kerri's, to go see a local production of "Annie" with her. We went, and she was very distant. I don't know what happened to her, but she really does seem like a different person. I guess her iciness toward me is helping me get over her, as a matter of pride and ego. I want to get back to the Revolvers. I'm thinking of a Revolver to be named "Forge of Wander", which would encompass a variety of "theme and variation" sub-Revolvers. These sub-Revolvers would include: FORGE OF WANDER Super Objects Balbitype Pelter Codingseeds Forge of Wander stuff is suited to be the clip art of the Digital Superworld--with 3-D Super Objects, Balbitype fonts, Pelter clip textures, Codingseed clip logos, and the like. This stuff could be very useful to people designing online worlds and such. So the influence of Obliviana may well be felt in all areas of the Digital Superworld, if, say, the entire FOW library is available free via FTP... Okay, so to recap... * Obliviana * Severe Repair * Zope * Superior * 209 * Forge of Wander * Anything But Monday Should OsoaWeek be a Revolver? I don't think so--it can be part of the Obliviana Revolver. I was considering putting Superior into Forge of Wander, but it doesn't really fit. Plus, I have plans for the development of Superior--and it IS the only feature in OsoaWeek to appear in EVERY SINGLE issue. Now, last night I had a great vision of the future of Obliviana. If you've been reading me for awhile, you know that one of my goals is to have a vast online world where people can coexist and do all sorts of cool stuff. Up till now, my plan has been for it to be a 3-D world. I mean, 3-D makes all the sense in the world. Right? Wrong. I am very involved with classic video games--games from the Golden Age of Video Games of the late '70s and early '80s. The video games of that period are primitive by today's standards. Yet, today's games pale in comparison. Many folks posit that it's the gameplay mechanics of past games which makes them better. While this is partially true, I would say that it is the simplicity of the sounds and graphics which makes the games better. It's just like the theory that radio dramas are better than TV shows--cuz they stimulate the imagination more. And Scott McCloud's theory from his book "Understanding Comics"--that simpler characters are easier to identify with. All this points to a single conclusion--the closer to reality you get with infostimulation, the less compelling it becomes, at an intrinsic level. So, taking this line of reasoning to its logical conclusion, the ultra-realistic 3-D computer environments of the near future will be the LEAST compelling form of interface! Because of this, I aim to create an interface for Obliviana base on classic video games. 12/21/95 * 9:09 AM * train station So I leave around 8:18, hoping to catch the 8:30 train. I figure cuzza the snow and the holidays and all, I'll find a spot no problem. So I'm most of the way there, with like 5 or 6 minutes to spare, and I hit a traffic backup, which I get stuck in till about 8:40. Okay, whatever--I'll just have to take the 9:11 and be REALLY late for work (like, almost three hours). So I pull into the parking lot, and the private lot guy holds up his hand and I stop and ask if the main lot is full. He says that HE'S full already--I guess implying that the main lot is full. So I wait the better part of half-a-minute, and he's like yelling at someone to back up their car, and someone comes up behind me, so I'm like, okay, may as well check out the main lot. So I go into it, and the parking guy's cohort opens the door to a car which is next to a space which I just might fit into. But he says the battery is dead, and even though I feel I could fit in, I figure he's got the door open, and there's no way I'll fit in like that. So I cruise around the snow-and-ice-covered lot, and see a very slim space one lane over. I go over there, and it's a tight fit--I think I might even have scraped the car to my right. But I fit in--only thing is, there's no room for me to get out. So, I pull back out, open the back of my Jeep Wrangler, and pull back in. Then, I scramble out the back, of course getting filthy slush all over the interior of my vehicle. But, after I get out, I see that I'm almost touching the car to the right, and it looks like I might even have left a mark on it or something. So I crawl back in, back out a little, and move the Jeep a little to the left. Okay. Then I had to scrape the compacted snow and ice on the ground with my broom, to reveal the numbers of the spot, so I could pay the machine. As if they're going to enforce that today, with all the number covered up, but what the hell--it's one less thing to worry about, and it's kind of fun uncovering numbers like that--kind of like archaeology. So I get the number and trudge off toward the station. But then, I see not one, but two pristine, albeit very snowy, spots much nearer the station! Fuck! So I trudge all the way back to the Jeep, open the back up, crawl back into my seat, back out, head over to the other spots--the top part of my back door swung wide open. Thank goodness the spots were still there. I guess I move cuz I was afraid I might have hit the other car--but really, I don't think I hit it. It may just have been a trick of the light, or whatever. But anyway, it got me worried. So I scraped the pavement again, got the number, and headed off to the station, buying a large decaf and calling work telling the boss I'd be in at 10:45 AM, rather than the usual 8:00. I went to a party last night and got home just in time to see Howard Stern on Letterman, or rather, just in time to see Letterman's monologue and then fall asleep through Howard, waking up in such a daze that I turn the TV off, even though Stern was still on. Oh well. So I'm still stuck here on issue 70. The snow, my Jeep, and the holidays have all taken their toll on my writing time, not to mention this new ABM project with Massotto. 27 days late now. Same as issue 47. Maybe I should concentrate on some major Severe Repair, and get a few issues done. Yeah. So I want to get back to these Revolvers. I'm developing this whole new idea for Obliviana--using a classic video game inspired interface rather than a 3D one for the ultimate online Obliviana environment. See, I think it'll take the industry decades to realize that 3-D sucks--it took ME years, and I'm the Lord of Obliviana, dammit! And, haha, you people in the future are gonna look back here and say JESUS CHRIST!--this guy knew all about the death of 3-D--WAY BACK IN 1995--AND HE EVEN WROTE ABOUT IT, FOR ALL TO SEE!!! Yeah. But I gotta get these Revolvers sorted out. Another recap... * Obliviana * Severe Repair * Zope * Superior * 209 * Forge of Wander * Anything But Monday Well now, another Revolver is... * Classictronica This is the Revolver lorded over my Mike Etler of Video Game Connections, and I'm not even sure he knows it's a Revolver yet. All through my core endeavoring, the number 8 has been very dear to me--I mean, it IS the difference between 11 and 19 after all! (11 and 19 being the sole factors of 209, and key to the whole 209 system). But in this case, I am not going to try and cram all my stuff into 8 Revolvers. Cuz I got a few more 'fore I'm done here. * Nihilistica Okay. Nihilistica is a Revolver which contains alotta the loose ends--Hemisinister Review, Beublin A. Richardson, Little Frankie Nora, Train Crap & Blood, Diary of a Dreamfrank, archives of old Halfevil and Nomadi stuff, For Joey, etc. And finally... * New Jersey I'm debating whether or not to call this "Antebellum", since Antebellum is the video game I've been working on for so long that's based in New Jersey. (Dark New Jersey? New Jersey Nightscape?) Anyway, creating a "New Jersey Simulator" is a big goal of mine--for Antebellum or not. Y'know what? "New Jersey Nightscape" sounds pretty good--I have a project called "Devastating Nightscape"--which could easily be integrated into the whole New Jersey/Antebellum thing--especially with the alternate reality New Jersey, "Otherjers". Or--"Devastating Nightscape New Jersey". Aha! Okay--now I'm thinking that Hemisinister Review should be a Revolver unto itself. And in case you're wondering, Halfevil Times is gonna be pretty much incorporated into Anything But Monday. So--looks like I got eleven Revolvers... * Obliviana * Severe Repair * Zope * Superior * 209 * Forge of Wander * Nihilistica * Hemisinister Review * Devastating Nightscape New Jersey * Anything But Monday* * Classictronica* Asterisk indicates someone other than me as Lord of that Revolver. 10:35 AM The train is stopped between Newark and the tunnel. There's a disabled Amtrak in the tunnel, and a few trains ahead of us. We've been here maybe 15, 20 minutes already. So I guess I'm gonna get to work even LATER for work than I thought. Woe with me. Is that it? Or maybe "Woe IS me". Who cares. 10:53 AM We're going BACKWARDS--to switch over to another track, since the disabled Amtrak isn't going anywhere anytime soon. Black guys with a blaring Walkman came to this car awhile ago--no one tells him to turn it down. Guess cuz everyone's afraid of black guys. I'm contributing to the noise pollution a little myself, tapping away at the keyboard here... 11:09 AM STILL going backwards. At maybe 10 MPH. Huh, I just noticed "SUB-STATION #4--PENNSYLVANIA RAILROAD"--a cool building I never noticed before, or at least, never noticed the sign on before. Black guy's Walkman still blaring out bad R&B. I've been working on Superior 30, adopting the "B" theory for the first time--allowing myself to revise some Superiors, something I never thought I'd do. Lotsa folks calling work with their cellulars. Wish I could call. At this point, I might not get there till 12. I've been on the train for 2 hours now. A very innocent Chinese girl sitting next to me. The World Trade Center is in clear view--guess I'm in clear view to it as well--someone with a telescope and nothing better to do could probably see me. 11:21 AM We're moving forwards! Yay! 6:10 PM * train home, still in station Well, I got to Penn Station a little while after that, but the subways were messed up, so I got to work like 12:15 or something. Had a nice little note from American Express there--called and talked to some homo there--have to send the fuckers something called a "Money-Gram" tomorrow, or else. Spilled some milk at work. Lotta "don't cry over it" jokes. Feeling fucked-up, congested, coughing, confused. And a weekend of Xmaschaos to look forward to. 12/22/95 * 7:26 AM * train Something I'm wondering about... the character counts for OsoaWeek--during the first four Books, I added line feeds for DOS users--but since then, I haven't been doing this. So I'm wondering what the true total is. The file OYO (Obliviana Year One) has 3,154,176 characters--but this includes added carriage returns and a few introductory lines--and is, by the way, equal to 1776 squared, so I could do cool stuff to the file in Photoshop. In OsoaWeek053, the cumulative character count for the first four Books is 3,283,773, and the line count is 91,439. Since there is one line feed per line, I should be able to subtract the lines from the characters to get the true number. This yields 3,192,334--which makes no sense at all--so I must be doing something wrong. This number is 38158 characters higher than OYO--and it should be LESS than the OYO number Oh well--I don't have time to delve into this matter any further right now--so fuck it. 12/22/95 * 5:45 PM * train Missed most of the company Xmas party today looking for a MoneyGram place for an emergency paying of my American Express card. What a fiasco. Severe Repair in this issue is kind of messed-up. The first part, with Yonder and Janice, is brand new--but the rest--the part with Partridge Tagtail and Elftoba Feth--is from long ago, maybe 1991. I did, and still may do, a little editing on it, but I don't know if I'm happy with it. I mean--I'm including it just to get this damn issue done! It's not that it's bad, it's just... I don't know. Ideally I might have wanted to totally revise it, but alas, such is not a part of Severe Repair. I view Severe Repair a little like the English language--able to assimilate all sorts of diverse chapters, and become stronger because of it. So hopefully this SR Chapter, number 57, will be okay. Holiday time. Gotta do all my Xmas shopping tonight and tomorrow. Going to Video Game Connections tomorrow to figure out the next issue of Classictronica with Mike Etler. I was gonna get together with Mike Massotto and work on Ever Wonder Ever Notice, but he was most displeased to discover my lack of progress, and delayed our meeting a week. It's funny--I view both Classictronica and ABM as Revolvers, but neither of these Mikes does yet. Interesting, eh? I can't wait to get past this holiday insanity... ease into the chilly wasteland of winter... leaving my six years of major struggle, 1990 thru 1995, in the dust... 6:02 PM Train is stuck in the station. It's funny--the other day I was on NJ Transit, and it was an Amtrak stuck in the tunnel. Now I'm on Amtrak, and "it's a Transit train" to quote the female conductor on this train. Man, Amtrak and NJ Transit really seem to hate each other. But, what the hell. There's a bathroom here, and a water cooler with little conical paper cups, and I got gum, so what the hell. Oh, I also have a computer--lucky for you--for you have a window into the past--my present. Why am I so interesting? Guess you have to be the judge of that. Ah, shit. Let me get this issue done. I'll continue bullshitting with you in issue 71. Get all Obliviana. *OW* [[04070NH]] Nihilistica ***SONGS OF THE WEEK RETURN!*** "Whipping" by Pearl Jam (from the album "Vitalogy") "Deacon Blues" by Steely Dan (from the album "Aja") *OW* [[05070SU]] Superior SUPERIOR 397 Need to refine. Life is. Buildings take an awful lot of effort to construct. English language, best ever, gets stronger the more foreign words it sucks in. Like me? Yeah e. SUPERIOR 398 Yeah be. Hmm, could be a new retro-hippie catchphrase. Mindy, Mindy, Mindy, Mindy. SUPERIOR 399 I have jaulo to porta. Waiting for the next thing to happen, we pretend colorful fictionals. Autumn leaf, red and dead, have you a thought in your head? What of me is steel-like? The dove, ancient idiot, the dove. SUPERIOR 400 Slow overpass, time of thinker, the yeseholution of the self. Done hinterland, I was overland, and the newspapers are losing interest. A jug of something... Any today does explode because Susan 594-011. SUPERIOR 401 Meantime. Century gang. Harsh y'know. Madness is a luxury you can ill afford, where is that? Resplendent blender--the of meaning. Maybe a housewifet--don't take away her feminism, mind poison. Chances are, in a literary sense, her focus on the blender chaos life beyond her control. What I know about awesome. This was heavily edited. SUPERIOR 402 Thor panther clothing, your feminine side with a baseball bat and a bottle of whiskey. When the bra strap goes loose, you know you're into the tit experience. Eye the clock at 2 PM, hours to go before you go home. You need a 2 PM where you're free as a psycho, causing trouble in amazing places. SUPERIOR 403 I have to youward, I am bashful but persistent. No smoking a cold walk yelling aimlessly at an empty Revolutionary War park town. Yeah, an old fence. Yeah, pretending to be just you, chess and game, theme park crapola takes up 19% of your brain. Toofar, a place for mystery and meeting sex partners. SUPERIOR 404 People matter. I have long hair, it's for my image. A massive intellect makes for tough emotional development. Think of what you can build--build it. *OW* [[06070SR]] Severe Repair SEVERE REPAIR 57: "The People Who Clean the Trains at Night" "Well, I still can't believe it." Janice Pawn said, sitting in the passenger seat of Yonder Caoden's car she they pulled into the parking space. "I don't know." Yonder said, yanking up the emergency brake and shutting the engine off. "I always felt there was... I don't know, something really WEIRD about Lucid. But this... it's just... it's just so..." "I know. It's like, if they're gonna do it, I mean, at least lock the door! I mean, come on--you don't say 'come in' even if you're in bed with a GUY. But another girl? Jeez, what was she thinking?" "I don't know." Yonder said, taking a handkerchief out of her purse, folding it, and putting it on her head. "She must have known it would be the talk of the school. And the other girl--I heard she may have been underage." "Yeah, who was it anyway?" "No one knows. A few people said she was a local high school student, or even--I mean it's foundless--a grade school student." "WHAT?" "Yeah--remember, Kathy and Washington were the only ones to see her. They said she looked awful young." "But--" Janice said, smiling, "--how much of them did they see? I mean, were they totally covered up, or what?" "Well, from what Kathy told me, they were both in the buff and in the open." "Man, what was she thinking!" "I don't know. Maybe she's trying to prove a point." "But--like I said, you don't let people in when you're doing it! They even kept doing it a little after they came in, right?" "They were in each other's arms." "Wow." "Yeah," Yonder said, looking around the parking lot, "Kathy freaked out and ran into my room, and Barbaza was there, studying while I was at the food court. She was yelling and screaming for Barbaza to go see them--to show she wasn't hallucinating about it. But when they got back, the other girl was gone--Washington stepped outside in embarrassment, and when Kathy and Barbaza went in, Lucid was still there, naked as the day she was born, but the girl was gone." "Where'd she go?" "I dunno--I think Lucid told 'em the girl was hiding in the closet, but I don't know--there really isn't ROOM in Lucid's closet for anyone to hide, y'know?" "Yeah." "Well, I don't see Nallie's car here. Maybe someone dropped her off? I'm not supposed to go into the trains without her." "No?" "Yeah, for security reasons or something. I don't know--I guess I have to go into the trains to see if she's there, right? I mean, I have to break the rule to follow the rule." "No," Janice said, "rules ain't rules that step on each other's toes--or so Nardale Creeks would say." "He that frontier fighter guy?" "Yeah--he fought with a Lucerne hammer. We've been studying him in Baskonontanan History." "Huh. Yeah, he's cool. I saw a show about him." "Yeah." "So what should I do?" "I don't know--maybe we should wait a little longer." "I know, but I'm not supposed to be late--another rule--and if we wait much longer..." Janice laughed and Yonder joined her. "The thing is," Yonder said, "I really need the money." Janice smiled and looked down, and they were silent for a time. Finally, Janice spoke. "God, I wonder what lesbians--y'know--what do they--DO to each other?" "I don't know, but you can be sure they're doing oral sex on each other." "Yuck." "I know. I mean, with a guy, it's like... the thing is THERE--like a popsicle or something--" Yonder said and Janice laughed, "--but a woman--I mean, it's like this hole you have to DIG INTO! I mean, it's so gross. You have to admire the guys that do it." "Or the girls." They laughed. "Or the girls, right." Yonder said. "I wish a guy would do it to me." Janice said after a pause. "No one ever did?" "Well--one guy did it a little--I think--but I don't think he was doing it right. I wish some guy would just--y'know--get INTO it." "A sexual athlete." "Yeah." There was another silence. "So what's all this with you 'mystery man'?" Yonder asked. "Oh..." Janice said in a distracted manner, as if thinking deeply, "It's just this guy I met over in Abdebacle Bay. He used to go to Thatterine--maybe you heard of him--Fratcher Leedoms?" "Uh--no." "Well yeah, he uh--he published this cool supernatural newspaper called 'Stuporconductor' a few years ago. I think you saw--" "--yeah--" "--y'know--some of the issues of it I have." "Uh-huh." "So I met him... y'know it was so weird--meeting him like that, cuz I was going... y'know... to this occult supply store, and--" "--you and that occult." Yonder said. "I know, I know." Janice said. "A nice girl like me isn't supposed to be interested in stuff like that." "Not so much that." Yonder said. "I just think that most of it is a rip-off. No offense, but there are a lot of young people out there who WANT to believe in something, and there are a lot of bad people out there ready, willing, and able to play on that." "I know..." Janice said in a longing way, "it's just--I KNOW there's something else going on out there--I can--I can FEEL IT all around me. And... and today... in Abdebacle Bay... something definitely happened..." "Oh yeah?" "Uh-huh. Only thing is... I can't remember." "What?" "I can't remember." "You don't remember what happened within the past few hours?" Yonder said in an exaggerated manner. "Well--it's just that this guy--Fratcher--drove me home. And it's like--I remember meeting him, and heading to this store, but then--it's hazy. I remember... being in his car, and driving over the Calermut Bridge, and I woke up--in the car--I must have been asleep. And he was playing his music so loud that I didn't say anything..." Yonder stared wide-eyed at Janice. "And--and the rest of the way I kind of drifted in and out of sleep--and when we finally got back to school--I told him where to drop me off, and he said..." Janice stopped, and wore a frightened expression. "What?" Yonder asked softly. "He said--'Sorry you had to erase your memory.'" * * * Partridge Tagtail sat in his car in a parking spot, preparing himself for the meeting with the old master guy, Elftoba Feth. It was a pleasant day, but with a touch of the sinister in the air. Lazily eyeing the numerous green building in the area, many of which contained shops, Partridge sighed as he exhaled the smoke of a cigar. He was a long way from home, and totally insecure about the mission. But he knew that he'd made his bed, and now he'd have to sleep in it. Polk Thewsike really is a crazy motherfucker, he thought. Maybe crazy enough to succeed in the wild frontier that was Aconck. Short and with a broad, almost deformed-looking face, Partridge wore a leather jacket and carried around a heavy club which looked like a copper clarinet, but was not playable. He looked down at the severely uneven burn on the cigar with disgust, and threw it onto the ground--it was just about finished anyway--starting to taste bad, as all cigars to at the end of their lives. Well, he thought, gotta go through with this. No way out. Can't fuck with Thewsike, he doesn't respect any authority--he's wild. Can't cross him, I'll wind up fucked. Don't wanna go in there. Don't wanna go... Soon he entered the monastery place. "How do you do Mr. Feth, uh, Master Elftoba, uh..." "Call me Elftoba. I'll call you Partridge Tagtail." "Fine." Feth was even shorter than Partridge, with a long blue beard, a blue metal scale skullcap, and a simple gray robe. He looked old, but his eyes were alive with a fire of awareness. "I'm not here to learn your ways. I'm here to oversee operations." "You're a fine little campfire, Partridge Tagtail. So how do you propose overseeing without learning?" "Look, uh, Elftoba, my organization is interested in results, not riddles. We're going to do this the easy way." "Yes we are. I see you are quite powerful. You travel around in different vestments of surroundings. You speak over great distances. You operate a puppet afar. You control many people. Yet this power comes from the group you belong to, not yourself. It is not true power. Here, we exercise true power, the power of the self. But it takes decades, not weeks, to gain this power." "Look Elftoba, I don't want to seem pompous, but I'm a whole lot more powerful than any individual here. Why spend a good chunk of your life in boring training, when you can gain so much more power in such a short time." "You might as well answer that yourself, you know." "What--'cause I might lose it as fast as I gained it?" "Don't ask me." "Well, even if it's only for a short while--who cares? Why should I be so greedy to need to have power all my life?" "Power to do good is not the result of greed, but of virtue. One with a permanent power can give to others as long as he lives. One such as yourself, even if he is inclined to give, can only do so for a short period of time." "Well, that's a moot point. I don't know why I should care about giving to breathers anyway." "You call those unlike yourself 'breathers'? Pray, tell me the meaning of this." "Look, it's pretty obvious, isn't it? All they're good for is using up air. It's a little derogatory term we Aconckers use now and again." "And pretty breather women? Are they good for anything else than breathing?" "Well sure, but--" "--they're good at sucking and fucking?" "Mr. Elftoba, please..." "Mock modesty doesn't work here. Your blatant self-serving hypocrisy is unneeded here. You're a young man. I can see you're not gay. You like to fuck the girls, whatever state of interworld mobility they're in. Don't pretend that such talk offends you. You assume it would offend me because of my age and place. But wringing in the moonloom is here, for everyone." "So what're you trying to say--that we treat breathers as objects?" "What does it take for a breather to become a browser--or even a bridger?" "Well, um, I guess it just takes an existing bridger or browser to bring 'em on in. To become a browser, that is. Bridging is a bit more complicated. You have to learn that, and not everyone can." "You're not a bridger, Partridge Tagtail." "Well, it's true I'm a browser right now, technically, 'cause I can't build my own bridges, but in the Sixty-Four you don't have to build your own, you know." "So you depend on others. Look at your name, look at Tagtail. Does it not mean a parasite? A sycophant? Are you an allegory yourself?" "Look, the Tagtails are a very important family. It might be the same word, but it has different roots. And it's not a very popular word, anyway." "True, but isn't it ironic, Partridge Tagtail?" "So whattaya want me to do--join your convent here for the next half of my life so I can levitate bowls?" "No. I have no interest in you joining us. That would only happen if the breezes wanted it to happen. No, it's just that I'm selfish. I've seen whelps like you too many times, and your hollow bravado is most annoying. It puts knots in my stomach to hear you talk such. I know I'll be dealing with you, and I'll admit I'd like to force some wisdom on you so that you're tolerable." "You know, I can ask Polk to get someone else for this mission if you want." "No, you're a brat, but you have potential. I don't want to take my chances to get a hopeless brat." "Look--I realize you're a great master and all--but I'm the official representative of the Unreal Sixty-Four, and I demand a basic level of respect." "My boy, you already did. Had I not a pinch of respect for you, I'd have had you wait in the garden for a few hours and then sent you back with instructions for Thewsike to send a real man. No, you'll do." "And I'll need to learn some humility from you--the hard way." "My boy, not at all. I've hired a local prostitute for you--she's waiting in your quarters. Say nothing, but go now." "What is this--a little initiation test. I have to turn you down on the offer or I'm a bad boy?" Elftoba said nothing. * * * "Good morning. So I slept with her, go ahead and send me back." "My boy, it was not a test, but a lesson." "Was I supposed to feel empathy for the girl? Was I supposed to feel bad for exploiting her? Well I didn't. She chose her profession, and you hired her. I just did what came naturally. If you want to play ethics games, find someone else." "Partridge Tagtail, the lesson is that one must be a gracious host. I hope I have satisfied that requirement. And also, that wasn't a prostitute, but an illusion cooked up by me and a few of my best students. Pretty realistic, huh?" "You were watching me the whole time!?!" "My boy, we were doing everything." "What are you, a bunch of queers?" "Not at all. We made what was essentially a puppet of a girl. You're familiar with puppets. And we were not there. It was automatic, responding to your every whim." "But it was real, I felt it." "What you felt was a pile of blankets. Your mind is so supine we could hardly resist." "So you did succeed in humbling me. Or you'll probably say I humbled myself." "Friend, you read too much meaning into it. I needed to give you a succinct demonstration of our abilities. I also wanted to give you a gift as any gracious host is wont to do. You did enjoy it, didn't you?" "Yes. I did. Are you happy? Yes. I was sexloopy for a little while there." "That is all in yourself, all of it. The illusion is more of a mirror than a puppet." "Are you saying I fucked myself?" "Yes." "Why do you say it's a mirror and not a puppet when a minute ago you said it was a puppet." "It's a mirror puppet." "Jeez--you know, Polk told me to be careful with you guys, but if this doesn't beat all." "Hey friend, let's get down to business. You're all right." "Great." *OW* [[END070OW]] -------> ------------------- ----------- -------- -- -----