* * Archive: REAL10.NEW * * Created on: Tue Aug 3 15:24:41 1999 * * Number of articles: 23 * * Welcome! This is one of the files that goes to make up the archives of * Project Galactic Guide. To find out what the heck PGG is, go look at its * main Web site at , where you'll be able to find * an FAQ. * * * The articles in this file are: * * 2R189-1 Nimbin, New South Wales, Australia, Earth * 2R190-1 Tony Roma's * 2R191-1 Bethel, New York, USA, Earth * 2R192-1 Jumping To Prevent Crashing * 2R193-1 Scaring Children * 6R20-1 Andorra, Earth * 6R21-1 Austria, Earth * 6R22-1 Beer Hunter, The Game Of * 6R23-1 Fast Eddies, Perth, Western Australia, Earth * 6R24-1 Fountain Diving * 6R25-1 Pamplona, Spain, Earth * 6R26-1 Running With The Bulls * 6R27-1 San Fermin, The Festival Of * 6R29-1 York Jazz Festival, York, Western Australia, Earth * 6R30-1 Netherlands, Earth, A Native Writes About The * 6R32-1 Mayonnaise On Someone's Head, The Art Of Putting * 2R194-1 Ice Cubes * 6R33-1 Diet Coke * 6R34-1 Inspiration, Lack Of * 6R35-1 Financial Freedom * 6R36-1 Multi-Level Marketing * 2R195-1 Bliss At Imperial College * 6R37-1 Chicken And Egg Dilemma * %t Nimbin, New South Wales, Australia, Earth %n 2R189 %s Coping With Hippies In Northern New South Wales %a Kirrily Robert (skud@swin.edu.au) * Alternate address: kirrilyr@union3.su.swin.edu.au %d 19950323 %x Earth %x Australia, Earth %i Hippies %i Drugs, Marijuana %e Nimbin is a small country town inland of Byron Bay in Northern New South Wales, Australia. About twenty-five years ago, someone held a festival there, called the Aquarius Festival, and lots of hippies went there. They never left. Nimbin is approached by a windy sealed road, meandering through rich cattle pasture. You turn a corner, and suddenly you're there. It's a strange town, having far too many craft shops and cafes for its own good, lots of people in caftans, and a green haze over the whole area. The most action- packed place in town is the footpath outside the museum, where people sit by the "Legalize Marijuana" stall and watch the world go by. You may be familiar with "No Smoking" signs on retail premises. Nimbin is the only place I've ever seen that had "No Dealing" signs instead. Even in the newsagents. If you stand on the street in Nimbin for more than five minutes, and you're not wearing a police uniform, you will be offered drugs. Don't bother buying them... if you wait a bit longer or hang out in the right places people will give them to you for free. The only place to get money in Nimbin (unless you're dealing) is from the newsagents, who will let you withdraw money by EFT (electronic funds transfer) as long as you spend $5 there. Remember this, as you may need it. The best place I found to stay in Nimbin was the backpackers' hostel, for about $12 Australian per night. Be prepared to be sociable (i.e., smoke drugs with the other residents), and keep your food locked away, or it will be stolen on a munchie raid. The hostel also has a lovely swimming pool, with a pebble interior and salt water. Be careful how you behave though. Nimbin backpackers is the only place I've ever known that kicked people out for "bad vibes." There is also a hairdresser in Nimbin. I mention this only because I had a haircut when I was there, and was a little concerned about having my hair cut by someone who, in all probability, was going to see little green men crawling out of my hair. Actually she was quite safe, and surprisingly straight. And the haircut was only $10. She can be found on the left side of the road as you head towards the school from the centre of town. There is a bus once or twice a day from Nimbin to Murwillumbah, and somewhat more often to Lismore. Don't mention computers to the driver -- he's a drop-out programmer and will tell you all about it. Also, don't be concerned by the hoards of screaming school children that will crowd the bus -- they all disembark long before Murwillumbah. If you are going to visit Nimbin, be sure to take with you: * sunscreen (it's hot up there) * drugs * money (for drugs, or for food which will be stolen) * tie-dyed clothes (to blend in with the natives) * a towel (for swimming, sleeping on in the middle of the main road, trading for drugs, etc) Enjoy! %e *EOA* %t Tony Roma's %n 2R190 %s Where To Get Great Ribs And Shrimp %a Alexander E. Cutshall (alexc@xmission.com) %d 19950302 %x Pizza %i Ribs %e Tony Roma's -- a good place for ribs. There are some places in the galaxy where there are no good non-corporation owned barbecue places... but there is a Tony Roma's. The question is, then, how is Tony Roma's? Expensive for the everyday meal, but every once in a while -- it's nice. Always go to the more crowded ones; they have better food. The reason being that the more people who eat there, the faster the food is replaced and the better their ribs are. Of the side dishes, EAT THE CORN ON THE COB!!! From what the waitress told me one time, it is a special variety of corn (the type I can't remember), and it is going to be about the best corn on the cob you will ever eat out. The ribs are good. The best deal is when they have the sampler platter (I'm drooling as I write). You get a taste of every type of rib that they have (yes, they have more than one kind). The Carolina Honeys are particularly good. Be careful in what you select! A dinner for two can run upwards of $40 if you are not careful in what you choose. So, choose, but choose wisely. If you don't like ribs, they have chicken and fish and shrimp, all of which are very good. Especially the shrimp. Yum! (If you don't like ribs, see "Pizza".) %e *EOA* %t Bethel, New York, USA, Earth %n 2R191 %s Home Of The Woodstock Festival And Not Much Else %a Joseph Johaneman (Joseph_Johaneman@spacesta.com) * Alternate address: Joseph.Johaneman@leading.org %d 19950306 %x Earth %x New York City, New York, USA, Earth %i Woodstock %e Bethel, NY, also known as the Most Boring Town In All Of Creation by its residents, is a small town in upstate New York (actually, how did it get to be called Upstate when it's more south than north. I mean, Buffalo, that's Upstate. But Bethel?!?). There are no big stores in Bethel, and there are no museums, restaurants, or Comic Book Stores. (Of course, it also has no used car salesman, which is probably the only reason people move there.) During most of the year, Bethel residents sleep, get drunk, go to work, and go to sleep again. But during the month of August, a transformation occurs, and the sleepy little town of Bethel becomes a little less sleepy. It is during August that the "Great Migration of the Aging Hippies" occurs. These Aging Hippies can be identified by their business suits (always of finest quality) and their cellular phones. Their children are all called Sunshine, Moonbeam, or Windy. They all travel in large mechanical beasts called BMW's and Mercedes. The Aging Hippies descend upon a small field on a back road that no one in Bethel ever travels. On this field, the Hippies celebrate the anniversary of the Woodstock Festival, which was supposed to be about peace and love and the arts, but was really about a bunch of naked people getting drunk and throwing mud at each other. Every year, the local authorities say nothing will happen at this field, and every year the Great Migration occurs and loud music erupts from the field, and Aging Hippies spend huge amounts of money on T-Shirts and Sodas which are provided by people from New York City. Then, after the anniversary is over, the Aging Hippies and their BMW's leave Bethel, and everyone yells at the local authorities because they didn't get involved and so all the money went to the T-Shirt people from New York City, and not a dime went to the town. And then everyone gets drunk, goes to work, and goes to sleep. %e *EOA* %t Jumping To Prevent Crashing %n 2R192 %s Why Jumping Is A Useless Thing To Do When Your Cliff Or Elevator Crashes %a Joseph Francus Nebus (nebusj@axiom.math.rpi.edu) * found in alt.humor.best-of-usenet by * Roel van der Meulen (vdmeulen@strw.leidenuniv.nl) %d 19941128 %x Jumping Off Cliffs And Other High Places %e Suppose you are somewhere in the desert -- Arizona, say, or possibly New Mexico -- and are chasing, say, a roadrunner as you are simply famished. You plan to catch the roadrunner by throwing a large boulder onto its head from a cliff, but, as you are pushing the boulder over the edge (using a lever, naturally), the cliff breaks off. You finally push the boulder off to notice that the ledge you were on is falling down the *very* deep ravine. Question: Is it to your advantage to jump off the bit of ledge remaining right before it his the ground, so that you can cancel the speed of your fall and keep from being squashed flat? Answer: Not unless you can jump hard enough. Let's assume, for the sake of simplicity, that the falling ledge with you on it reaches a terminal velocity (that is, the acceleration of gravity is exactly cancelled by the wind resistance, so it does not fall any faster) of about 50 meters per second. That means that you, too, are falling about 50 meters per second. To avoid getting smashed when you hit the ground you need to be going down at about 0 meters per second. So you need to jump up with a speed of about 50 meters per second. So, unless you are able to jump hard enough to cover 50 meters -- half the length of a football field -- in one second; or, to put it another way, to (from rest) jump up 125 meters -- more than the length of a football field -- then you are going down too quickly to cancel out your velocity and save yourself. Besides, even if you did, the boulder you pushed off would then smack you on the head, and it would be going about 50 meters per second, even if you held up a little umbrella to protect yourself. %e *EOA* %t Scaring Children %n 2R193 %s How To Scare The Piss Out Of Children On Halloween %a Lawrence Hammond (hamm7950@mach1.wlu.ca) * found in alt.humor.best-of-usenet (originally alt.gothic) * by Roel van der Meulen (vdmeulen@strw.leidenuniv.nl) %d 19941125 %e The last few Halloweens I think I've done some permanent psychological damage to some young'ns who come begging 8~). I used to dress up as Dracula and go for their necks before I give the candy. I stopped doing that when they started pissing on my porch. Two years ago I hid in the bushes right by the door and bandaged up my arm. As the little ones walked by, I'd grab at their ankles. I could never reach or even touch them, but they too started wetting their pants and some parents got upset. Come on! It's Halloween, you're supposed to get scared! This year, I'm living in a house with a lot of really weird people. We have a lot of big trees in front of our house and we got a lot of leaves which we piled up really high. Two guys hid in the pile. I would sneak up behind the little beggars and pretend to be tricker treating with them. When I passed by the pile of leaves, the two guys grabbed my legs and dragged me in kicking and screaming. You've never seen kids run so fast in your life. In all cases I think we left a permanent scar on their psyche. Ya! %e *EOA* %t Andorra, Earth %n 6R20 %s A Party Kind Of Place %a Chris Tann, The (chris_tann@bigfoot.com) %d 19950223 %x Tourists %x Downhill Skiing %e Andorra is a small country situated in the Pyrenees, on the border between France and Spain. Everything there is more or less duty free, including drinks in the bars, so it is an ideal stopping point for your average hitchhiker [1]. Capital City: Andorra La Vella. This is the least interesting place in the whole country. Surface area: Pretty small, but quite pointy in places. Population: One million visiting tourists and about ten native Andorrans. Major imports: Tourists. Major exports: Smuggled duty free goods, drunken tourists going home. Monetary Units: The Spanish Peseta. Some places accept French Francs, and many bars will accept any form of hard currency [2]. Languages: Mostly Spanish, some of the natives speak French. The Tourists speak whatever they want, as long as they keep spending money. Entertainment: Large amounts of partying, sometimes mixed in with small amounts of skiing in the winter months. Popular foods: Alcohol. Getting there: The best way is by road trip. See "Andorra Road Trip, The Great" Getting away: Sometimes more difficult than it seems. Many hitchhikers have become permanently stuck in Andorra, because it is such a fun place! Useful Notes ------------ When drinking in the bars, drink spirits instead of beer. The beer is not actually expensive, but the spirits are dirt cheap, and served in huge measures as well. [1] Beware though, as some hitchhikers never actually manage to escape. [2] Usually at ridiculously bad exchange rates. [3] The exchange rates are also index linked to how much you have had to drink. %e *EOA* %t Austria, Earth %n 6R21 %s No Kangaroos In Austria %a Chris Tann, The (chris_tann@bigfoot.com) %d 19950221 %x Downhill Skiing %x Earth %e So, what is an Australian Field Researcher doing writing an article on Austria? Simple, my spelling is lousy, and I thought that I had a contract to write articles about my home country. Surface area: Much bigger than you would expect from its perimeter, due to all the vertical bits. This, along with a simple law of thermodynamics, explains why the country is so darn cold. Population: Around seven million. Languages: A mangled form of German, with many dialects such as Styrian, which even other Austrians cannot comprehend. Capital City: Vienna, home of the famous Spanish Riding school, the even more famous Viennese Boys Choir, and the still more famous Wiener Schnitzel. Major exports: Strauss, Mozart, Adolf Hitler, Arnold Schwarzenegger. Major imports: Everything else Favourite colour: Austrian Green, a very dark green colour chosen for its drabness and complete lack of anything eye-catching Monetary Units: The Schilling. Apparently, Austria wanted to buy a new currency, and England gave them a cheap deal on their unwanted currency during decimalisation. Entertainment: Skiing, skiing, skiing and skiing. In summer, people tell stories about the skiing they did last winter. Popular foods: Austria has many good traditional dishes, most of which were stolen from the Hungarians. The rest consist mostly of evil-looking sausages, clear soups with indescribable dumplings bobbing around, and lots of potatoes and boiled beef. Oh, and of course, Wiener Schnitzel. Getting there: Austria borders no less than eight Countries [3], so there is a lot of choice as to where you enter. Italy usually proves to be the cheapest if travelling by train. What it doesn't have is any coastline, making sea-travel tricky. Getting around: The hitching is good in Austria, the trains are expensive. Peculiarities: Chris Tann spends his birthday there once every 20 years [1]. [1] The reason for this is as yet unknown [2]. [2] Even to Chris Tann. [3] Don't believe me? OK, here goes: Italy, Switzerland, Germany, Liechtenstein, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Slovania, and, um.... OK, you're right, its only seven. %e *EOA* %t Beer Hunter, The Game Of %n 6R22 %s Safer Than Russian Roulette (Just) %a Chris Tann, The (chris_tann@bigfoot.com) %d 19950208 %x Emu Export Lager (TM) * %x Manic Depressive Society * %x Rottnest, Western Australia, Earth %e Requirements: - Warm weather, or someone who doesn't mind the inside of their house being destroyed. - A table and six chairs, in the vicinity of the first requirement. - One "Master of Ceremonies." - Six players, preferably already a little drunk. - Each player must provide six cans of beer. All beer cans should be the same sort/brand. - As many spectators as possible, also all preferably drunk Procedure: - Each player should remove his/her/its [1] T-shirt, and tie it in a vague headband fashion around their forehead. - Each player then places one can on the table. The MC selects one can, and shakes it thoroughly. It can also be passed around the spectators for some "audience involvement" - The players sit down, with their foreheads on the table. the MC places the shaken can down with the others, and mixes them thoroughly. - On pronunciation of the appropriate signal [2], the players grab for a can, quickly hold it to their ear, and open the ring-pull. - One player will receive a spray of frothy beer in the ear, and he must then drink/wear the rest of the can as quickly as possible. The other players then finish their beers, ready for the next round. - Play then continues, with one player less each round. The winner is the last "alive", and he then walks [3] away with the rest of the beers [4]. Pit-falls: - [3] [1] I don't want to be sexist/speciest, but I can't be bothered typing in "he/she/its" every time. It doesn't scan very well either, and often comes out sounding like "He shits", which is not particularly poetic. So, I am just going to use "he" from now on. Sorry. [2] "Go" is the traditional, albeit unimaginative, choice. [3] Or more commonly, staggers. [4] This should be 10 cans, but don't depend on it. Rottomathematics often apply, which is even more tortuous than Bistromathematics. %e *EOA* %t Fast Eddies, Perth, Western Australia, Earth %n 6R23 %s Where A Lot Of People Just Like YOU Hang Out %a Chris Tann, The (chris_tann@bigfoot.com) %d 19950203 %x Australia, Earth %x Earth %e For those of you who don't know Fast Eddies, it is an all-night burger bar in Perth, which seems to be the meeting place of all the people you were never expecting to see [1]. Eddy has not been spotted for several years now, and rumours have it that his size has reached such a proportion that he cannot leave his room. [1] Unless of course you tried the old and tired bluff of going there expecting to see someone you weren't expecting to see, in which case you wouldn't. %e *EOA* %t Fountain Diving %n 6R24 %s Don't Do This %a Chris Tann, The (chris_tann@bigfoot.com) %d 19950309 %x San Fermin, The Festival Of %x Pamplona, Spain, Earth %x Jumping Off Cliffs And Other High Places %e Of the more stupid pastimes of the world, perhaps one of the least advisable is Fountain Diving. This is a tradition during the San Fermin festival in Pamplona, for those whom the threat of 1000kg of rampaging bull no longer produces an adequate adrenaline rush. Requirements: - A fountain, not very deep, with a high column or statue in the middle. - A group of (preferably large and trustworthy) people to stand in the fountain. - A deathwish is not essential, but beneficial. Procedure: - Simple. Climb the statue, and jump into the waiting arms of those below. Extra points are awarded for a pike or a tuck on the way down. Pit-falls: - Any time the correct juxtaposition of events occurs to allow fountain diving, there is a high likelihood that most of the participants will be drunk. Drunk people have a notoriously short attention span. Figure out the results for yourself! %e *EOA* %t Pamplona, Spain, Earth %n 6R25 %s A Quiet, Romantic Spanish Town - Except For The First Two Weeks Of July %a Chris Tann, The (chris_tann@bigfoot.com) %d 19950309 %x San Fermin, The Festival Of %x Running With The Bulls %x Fountain Diving %x Earth %e Pamplona, is a sleepy and quiet little Spanish town. It is about an hours drive from San Sebastian, and the North East coast of Spain. The road through the mountains to get there can be quite treacherous [1], but once there, the picturesque views, cobbled streets, and quiet and relaxed way of life are most enchanting. It is also very amusing to see the occasional uninformed tourist wandering around and saying "where are the bulls, where are the bulls?". All of this is applicable only outside of the first two weeks of July, for it is at this time that the Renowned Festival of San Fermin takes place. This sleepy town is transformed overnight into a non-stop, raging, drunken party! The streets are packed with people 24 hours per day, mostly wearing white [2] with red bandannas, stumbling along, singing, drinking Sangria, and having _FUN_. [1] Scratch one Avis hire car! [2] Well, it starts off white, and usually finishes, dirty white, with large stains of red [3] and red [4]. [3] From the Sangria [4] From the blood of fallen "Runners" %e *EOA* %t Running With The Bulls %n 6R26 %s The _Real_ Adrenaline Rush %a Chris Tann, The (chris_tann@bigfoot.com) %d 19950309 %x San Fermin, The Festival Of %x Pamplona, Spain, Earth %x Fountain Diving %e Forget Base jumping, forget Stock Car racing, forget all the rest. This is the _real_ adrenaline rush. There are no safety nets, no crash harnesses; its just you and a dozen rampaging bulls - oh, and of course a few thousand other people doing the same thing! First step - get to Pamplona during the San Fermin Festival. Once you are there, head down to the town hall at around six am, with a full bottle of Sangria. Don't try and get any sleep beforehand, you won't need it! Hang out in the square, try to act calm, and ignore the first twinges of "OHMYGODWHATTHEHELLAMIDOING". Around 7:00, the barricade builders will start putting up the twin barricades. Don't Panic [1]. On the build-up to 8:00, more and more people will crowd in. There is a surface of calm, but you can feel the underlying tension. A few important announcements [3] will be made, but Don't Panic [1]. Also, make sure you finish the bottle of Sangria by about 7:30, and on no account appear drunk, drugged or stupid, or you may not be allowed to run. At 8:00, a cannon will sound. Don't Panic, as the first massive wave of adrenaline hits your blood stream . The bulls are out, but they are a long way away yet. A lot of people start running now, but you should stay slouching nonchalantly in the square. Then the second cannon sounds. Don't Panic [5], this means RUN LIKE HELL! Adrenaline is now pumping full speed into your system, as the body activates all fight-or-flight circuits [6]. If you sprint from here, you can probably make it to the Bull Ring without seeing a bull. Run slowly, and you risk trampling, maiming, and worst of all, missing out on getting into the ring. The perfect speed is to get into the ring between the first bull entering and the last bull entering, but the final corridor is a hell-funnel packed with a solid [7] wall of bodies. Once in the ring, you get the chance to play with even more bulls, although much smaller ones. The aim of this game is to slap the bull on the rump as it goes past, and for the real psychos amongst you, to jump completely over the bulls back. When this is all over, you will find that it is around 10:00, and although you haven't had a wink of sleep, the adrenaline will last throughout the day. Time to party! Suggestions: - If you are hit, tripped, or gored, lay down, if possible right against the fence, and cover your head. - If you panic, don't try and jump over the fence, as you will probably get pushed right back in again. - When you get in the ring, DON'T try to grab the bull by the horns. The only thing worse than an enraged bull is an enraged crowd of Spaniards. - Ensure that you have good medical insurance, and it is probably wise to make sure that your will is up to date. [1] (yet) [2] [2] I'm getting an adrenaline hit just writing this! [3] The technical quality of these announcements is roughly equivalent to a British Rail platform announcement. Rumour has it that the announcements are in several different languages, but they all come out like "Phnurdle foop plick.." [7] [4] Apparently this translates to "Do not run if drunk or high, don't run behind the bulls, don't run towards the bulls, don't distract the race officials, you may need them." [5] Oh, go on then PANIC! [6] If possible, de-activate the "fight" circuits! [7] Well, not so solid when you see the effect a ton and a half of bull has on it. %e *EOA* %t San Fermin, The Festival Of %n 6R27 %s Drinking, Dancing And Death In Traditional Spanish Style %a Chris Tann, The (chris_tann@bigfoot.com) %d 19950309 %x Pamplona, Spain, Earth %x Running With The Bulls %x Fountain Diving %e The Festival of San Fermin takes place during the first two weeks of July, in the sleepy [1] Spanish town of Pamplona. Before you can contemplate anything as mind-bogglingly stupid as "Running with the Bulls," you have to get there. You have to get there at the right time as well, making things even more complicated for your average hitchhiker, but if you can't manage this small piece of organization, then you probably wouldn't survive anyway. Once you are there, the fun starts. It doesn't matter what time of day or night you arrive, this place is _permanently_ jumping! As you arrive in town, stick to the right, and try to park next to the grass, overlooking the big drop to the river - a good sleeping zone. [2] Then head out into town. Try the Sangria, available 24 hours a day at many a corner shop. Head into any of the spit'n'sawdust bars [3] for a beer. Dance and party! Of course, drinking and partying are not the only things to do. Unfortunately, I can't tell you much about the other things, because drinking and partying are all _I_ wanted to do. Recommended entertainments: - Running with the Bulls [6] - Fountain Diving [6] - Bull taunting [4] - Bull "fighting" [5] - Drinking and Partying I assume that you know about the last one. If not, then this is probably not the festival for you. [1] Sleepy maybe, but not during the festival! [2] A word of warning - don't sleep next to any trees. The trees in Pamplona are used as 24 hour toilets, and a sleeping body won't prevent their usage. [3] These bars spend 50 weeks of the year as cellars and garages, and only two weeks as bars. [4] This consists of teams of three people, who try to get close enough to the bull to slip a rubber ring over one horn. It is very entertaining, and the only blood spilled is that of any competitor unfortunate enough to get caught. [5] Or more accurately, bull taunting, then torturing, then killing. Only recommended for those who enjoy the smell of blood. [6] See separate cross references. %e *EOA* %t York Jazz Festival, York, Western Australia, Earth %n 6R29 %s How Not To Get There, And How To Avoid Seeing Any Jazz %a Chris Tann, The (chris_tann@bigfoot.com) %d 19950203 * %k Emu Export Lager * %k Stanley Street %x Fast Eddies, Perth, Western Australia, Earth %x Australia, Earth %x Earth %e The York Jazz Festival. Here are the experiences of two Hitch-Hikers, trying to get to the York Jazz Festival. These notes should perhaps be taken as "How NOT to get to the York Jazz Festival," rather than as "How to get to the York Jazz Festival." ---------- We were at a party somewhere down in Cottesloe , down on good-ole Broome Street. I can't for the life of me remember what the party was for, but it was a Friday night, I remember that much. I don't think the party was very much fun, and we wanted to go up to the York Jazz Festival. So, it seeming like a good idea at the time (and most ideas seem like good ideas while drunk at 2:00 in the morning), Gary and I decided to hitch to York. We set off, paused at Stanley Street to pick up a backpack full of beer, and set off. Memories of the hitch itself are a little vague, but a few highlights still stand out. We wound up on Riverside Drive, down below the Bridge. There was a little old Italian man in a Purple valiant, stopped at the traffic lights. We went up to the window, and made pretty obvious hitching signs. He told us to "Fuck Off", and sped away from the lights. I took this as an insult, so hurled my mostly-empty beer can after him. I must have had a tail wind and a lucky trajectory, because the can bounced squarely off the centre of his roof, with a lovely "bong" noise - this was in the days of the good old steel cans - A man new where he was with a steel can [1]. At the sound of this noise, Gary and I made a quick, strategic change in planned routes, and ran away up a side street. By some lucky chance, this side street just happened to lead us up to that haven of midnight travellers, Fast Eddies. As we were expecting to see someone unexpected, we saw no-one. We ate a couple of burgers, and then called on the helpful advice of the entire clientele, as to which direction we should take to hitch to York. After taking a quick statistical summary of this advice, which would have left us sitting in Fast Eddies, we ignored them all and headed off again into the unknown. Next stop was the Entertainment Centre. This is the big concert hall in the middle of Perth, which is usually quite empty at this time of the morning. I guess that it must have been about 3:00 by now. Well, we were quickly drawn by a large-ish crowd outside. We went and shared a few beers with them, mostly Boguns. It took a while to find out what they were waiting for, as they didn't seem to be making any sort of queue. Apparently, tickets for some concert or other were going on sale on Tuesday, so they had decided to "hang out" for a while. We again took a quick poll on suggested directions for hitching, completely ignored the advice, and headed off. We then got a lift from two girls, somewhere near the Causeway. I don't exactly remember the story in this car, but one of the two (the driver) was nice and friendly, and so being good and responsible Hitch-hikers that we are, we immediately tried to convince here to take us back to her place. She was actually wavering towards a yes on this one, but her friend (Why do the nice girls always have them?) was the "blocker," and so wanted nothing to do with men in general, and less to do with us in particular. So, we waved our sad goodbyes somewhere the Perth side of Midland. Here the hitchhiking slowed down a little, and we walked for about half an hour without a lift. Gary's nervous energy was running down about this time, and he said he wanted to take a nap. I was still fine, and the beer-backpack almost seemed to be getting lighter [2]. As chance would have it, we were passing a shopping centre at the time. So, the foundations were laid for another "Good Idea At The Time." I grabbed a shopping trolley, Gary climbed in to sleep, and I carried on wheeling him in front of me. Gary dropped off quickly, and I soon decided that the footpath was too cracked and rough for him to sleep properly, so I headed out on to the road. This was much easier, and Gary slept soundly. The road was a dual carriage way, so I wasn't too worried about cars. However, the few cars coming along were moving quite fast, it being about 4:30. I found it incredibly amusing to see how close they would get before they would see us and move over, and some of them were coming pretty close, to the point of having to slam on the brakes and skid around us. Gary woke up somewhere about this time, and I explained to him how funny I thought this was. I'm not sure if it was this, or the half hours sleep he had had, but he was suddenly brimming with that good old nervous energy again. He offered to push me for a while, but stressed that it had to be on the footpath. I wasn't really tired, and we decided that in fact the chances of somebody stopping to pick up two hitchhikers, one of whom was in a shopping trolley, were pretty slim. So, we made an executive decision, and ditched the trolley. I think we walked for about an hour and a half in all, right to the other side of Midland, and to the bottom of Greenmount. We then managed to hitch a lift as far as the turn off to York (a well know petrol station whose name escapes me for the moment). It was here, with about 40km left to travel, that the beer and my nervous energy ran out. I remember crashing out on the hard baked-red earth, looking at the ants running around inches from my nose, and hoping that they were still to sleepy at this hour of the morning to bite me. I think that Gary fell asleep too, but he had the presence of mind to fall asleep with his thumb out. I woke up with him shaking me, as a van had stopped and offered us a lift. They dropped us off at the little greasy roadhouse at the entrance to York, and I think it was just around 7:00. We went in for a snack (I was disappointed because they had no beer). The place was quite unremarkable, and has simply left a dark grey firmly implanted on my memory. The only other customers, however, have left a lasting impression on me. There were four of them, Mum, Dad, and two kids aged around seven and nine. They were eating something, I think it must have been some kind of soup. They were all dressed in grey, they were all looking down at their plates, and the only noises were the occasional slurp or scrape of bowl. The waitress had a face about 10 miles long as well, and I quickly decided that I should get Gary out of this place as quickly as possible. I told him to follow me, and made a break for the door. Luckily, no-one saw us, or if they did, they didn't care. The sun was starting to come up as we walked in to town, it was cool and quiet, and the adrenal power of adventure-hitching was running to a dangerous low. We made it as far as the town park, and the nice green grass and cool shade seduced us, so it was Z time again. I woke up a couple of hours later, to the sight of one of our Boys in Blue, disdainfully prodding Gary with a black-booted foot. Now the sight of a blue uniform when I wake up has a stunning effect on my nerve centres and adrenal glands, and in seconds, I was wide awake and full of energy, and jogged over as if I had just run three laps of the park. I sweet talked the policeman, about how we were staying in town, and just sat down to rest five minutes, with images of nationwide police bulletins about dangerous fugitive hitch-hikers in my head. So, we headed out of the park, still babbling profuse inanities to the policeman. The next step was simply to find the others, but in fact, we only had pretty vague directions of where to go, as well as a pretty vague idea of where we actually were to start with. Our first point of reference was to find a certain furniture shop. We found this with only a little searching, but of course, there was no-one there. Asking at a few of the shops around soon provided us with directions, along with a few raised eyebrows and wrinkled noses. I don't remember seeing a mirror anywhere, but that is probably just as well. Well, we finally made it to the meeting point at about 11:00. Quite a few of the others had already arrived, and they were just cracking open the first of the days beers... I never did see any Jazz during the weekend. So much for the Jazz Festival. [1] Unless, of course, he was lost. [2] Beer-backpacks can be highly recommended. The have the dual magic properties of seeming to become lighter the further you walk, and at the same time making YOU seem lighter as well [3]. [3] Up until a certain point, know sometimes as "The Beer Event Horizon." %e *EOA* %t Netherlands, Earth, A Native Writes About The %n 6R30 %s The Land Below The Sea %a Roel van der Meulen (vdmeulen@strw.leidenuniv.nl) %i Holland, Some People Inaccurately Call It %i Water, The Country With Lots Of It %d 19950217 * A GAG Product %x Netherlands, Earth %x Earth * %x Waddinxveen, Zuid-Holland, Netherlands, Earth %x Boskoop, Zuid-Holland, Netherlands, Earth * (the above two to appear soon) %x Amsterdam, Noord-Holland, Netherlands, Earth %x Dwingeloo, Drenthe, Netherlands, Earth %x Westerbork Array, Westerbork, Drenthe, Netherlands, Earth %x Noordwijk, Zuid-Holland, Netherlands, Earth %e Most of the Netherlands lies beneath sea level, hence the name. Are the Dutch bothered about that? Not in the least. Alright, they do build dikes and impressive water works to keep the water out, but they'll never leave their country because of it. Now, how come most of the country lies beneath the sea level? There is a popular saying that God created the world, but the Dutch created the Netherlands. This saying holds a lot of truth. In years past the Dutch have built dikes around almost everything, lakes, marshes, seas, and then they pumped them dry and built houses there, in the polders. In fact, the whole province of Flevoland was made of polders. Flevoland lies in the IJsselmeer, the largest lake in the Netherlands, which once was a sea, the Zuyder Zee, before they put the Afsluitdike between Noord-Holland and Friesland. As a result of this the Netherlands are filled with all kinds of water ways, from the small but well filled ditches around the many pastures, to the large rivers. The Netherlands are in fact the sewer of Europe. Two large rivers, the Rhine (Rijn) and the Meuse (Maas), wind their ways through Switzerland, Germany, France and Belgium before they reach the Low Lands filled with the chemical waste products of many a foreign factory. Recently, due to heavy rainfall and the canalisation of the rivers in all the aforementioned countries, the Meuse and the Rhine were filled beyond their limit. The Meuss flooded a lot of land in Zuid-Limburg, and the Rhine and all the rivers it turns into in the Dutch delta, threatened to burst a couple of dikes, so some 250,000 people were evacuated from those areas. Thanks to a lot of extra effort no dikes burst. In all countries concerned, plans are being developed to prevent this from happening ever again. To summarize the above: the Netherlands are actually one big river delta. To say more, there are no mountains at all in the Netherlands, unless you want to be so broad minded to call the highest point in Zuid-Limburg (a bit more than 110 metres above sea level) a mountain. The Netherlands are divided into 12 provinces; some of them I've mentioned above. There are some plans to change the cities of Amsterdam and Rotterdam into city provinces, but I doubt that will ever happen. These plans have caused other, much smaller cities and villages to acquire the same status; another fine example of "I want a better car than my neighbour's". Noord- and Zuid-Holland together is called Holland, so to refer to the Netherlands with "Holland" is to disregard most of the country. Holland is in fact the densest populated area of the Netherlands, with a lot of major cities in it. All these cities together plus the area in between is called the Randstad, translated as the Urban Conglomeration, which is almost what it is. I wouldn't be surprized if the Netherlands will become one large city in the future. I'll come back to the Randstad later on. Some cities in it are Amsterdam, the capital of the country, the Hague (Den Haag), the political capital, and Rotterdam, Europe's largest seaport. The Netherlands is populated with approximately 15 million humans, living in a very small area. This makes this country one of the densest populated areas in the world. That means that everything in this land has to be organized. And so it is. Someone once said he had never seen a country where there are so many rules, and where so many rules are broken. An absurd example of this is that criminals have to pay taxes on their criminal activities, and can even get refunds if for instance a drug run is intercepted by the police! The consequence is also that even the tiniest bit of the Dutch landscape is controlled, as you can well observe whenever you're riding around in one of the trains of the best organized railway company in the world (although some commuters tend to disagree with this last fact). Tourism. What the Netherlands have to offer in the field of tourism, is mostly the uncommon landscape, completely flat with an occasional windmill (yes, these cliches are true!) which in ancient times was used to grind grain and pump water, and of course the inevitable water. Further there are a lot of cities with a lot of lovely, very old houses and buildings in them. One thing to avoid whilst walking through those cities are street organs, the whining noise of which is a hazard to your mental health, not to mention the appurtenant shabby people collecting pennies for it by shaking ash-trays to the 'tune'. There are also some amusement parks, of which the Efteling, in Kaatsheuvel, is the most unique. It has an atmosphere of fairy tales, if you just forget you have to wait in line for at least half an hour to enter any one attraction. Then we have lakes where you can rent all kinds of boats, and throughout the whole of the country there are countless cycle tracks on which you can tour on your rented bikes. Mind them well, because bikes get stolen here before you can say "Jezus, this saddle's killing me!" The flooding of Zeeland in 1953, when a high tide, a storm and weak dikes caused thousands of deaths, resulted in the construction of the delta works. Some people find them impressive, but don't go there unless you love kilometers of boring concrete constructions. Hitchhikers attention! Beer and drinks are relatively cheap and hashish is, or will soon be legal. I don't care much about these things, but you will always see some hitchhikers who do. I do advize everyone to try some of the local fast food, frikandellen, kroketten, bitterballen, kaassouflee, etc. etc.. You might even like it (and get away without a stomach ache). The Dutch have always been a trading people, and have as a consequence, in general, always been very tolerant. This you can still experience, especially when you're trying to learn to speak Dutch. Once a local determines from your accent what country you're from, he or she instantly switches over to at least English, if necessary possibly also to German, French or to maybe even to another language. This can be mildly irritating, even though it is their intention to please you. I'm working on changing this aspect of the Dutch, but my writing in English for The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Known Galaxy doesn't help much. O yes, one more important thing about the Netherlands, if you hadn't guessed it already: I live there. %e *EOA* %t Mayonnaise On Someone's Head, The Art Of Putting %n 6R32 %s Mayohead %a George Jakubaas (jakubaas@ragehard.limmat.net.ch) %d 19950228 %e There are most interesting things one can do with another person. Some of them are pleasant, some of them are *extremely* pleasant, some of them are funny, and some of them are crazy. Some of them are stupid. But one, and only one thing somebody can do with another person is all of the above, pleasant, funny, crazy and stupid: To bring that individual to let you put big spoonfuls of mayonnaise onto the head. Again, there are several ways to achieve this, but most of them will result in medium to severe damage of jaws or teeth and cause cramps in the lower body parts due to the sudden impact of a fist in the stomach region. 1. Plan carefully! Find a person, who is crazy enough to accept a broken-minded offer Ready a *big* spoon and about a pound of mayonnaise Make sure there are enough people around who share the great experience and success with you. 2. Carry-out Tell your victim that you have the strong urge to put three big spoonfuls of mayonnaise onto his head. Promise money or someting valuable to your victim If he doesn't agree: Don't force it! It will go wrong! Trying to put mayo onto someone's head by force might result in a chaos. If he agrees: Take the spoon, dip it into the mayo and splat it onto the bowed and expecting head of your victim. Count aloud: ONE Spread the mayonnaise calmly on the head, to make sure the whole top is covered with a smooth layer of mayonnaise. You can decorate it by adding some decent patterns to it. Use tools like comb, fork etc. as appropriate. Tap the spoon on the mayo to hear that sound which only a spoon tapped on mayo spread on a head can produce. Enjoy it, it's a rare sound! Delight your audience by questioning the victim how it feels to have that much protein and cholesterin on the head, or if he would like to have some salad on it as well.. Repeat these last four steps. Again, as you put the second spoonful of mayo on his head, count aloud: TWO Now you put a security distance between your victim and yourself Your victim will then ask you kindly to put the THIRD spoon of mayo onto his head, which you refuse. This is the moment when it becomes not only even more interesting, but actually extremely exciting and thrilling! Normally it takes about 10-15 seconds until the victim realizes that he has been tricked. In that precise moment it is being decided whether you will have stomach cramps and/or fractured jaw/teeth, or if you will be The Hero of the Day. This procedure was tested and approved in Kastl bei Amberg, Bavaria, Germany, Earth, in the year 1987. The victim reacted by cursing at the person who brought shame on him. He was also busy to keep his head straight so that the mayo won't fall onto his clothes. So the initiant of this scene turned out to be The Hero of the Day. There were no dental losses. Don't try this with known rowdies, rockers, punkers and people who tend to carry around weapons (concealed or unconcealed), billiard cues, baseball bats or other hitting-devices. The Ministry Of Health warns: "Putting mayonnaise onto someone's head might cause damage to your health!" %e *EOA* %t Ice Cubes %n 2R194 %s What? Frozen water? Why Not Put It Into Cubes? %a Rickard Andersson (rickard@softlab.se) %d 19950411 * This is a GAG product (my sixth) %x Water %e One of the big problems you as a hitchhiker can be faced with, are how to chill down the drink you most likely will drink when you are mingling with the local habitants at parties. The solution to this problem is just as simple as most other problems are after you have heard about the solution. You just put some cubes of frozen water in the drink. That's it! Not very technical and quite cheap according too recent studies. The drinks become more tasteful, this is also noted by the same studies. To be sure the study was correct, some experienced people used to drink things with or without ice cubes, performed a few practical tests. These test was conducted during a long... ...SSCCRRITTCCHH... ... we interrupt this article to bring you some PGG information. Clear your mind, here it comes. Always remember to have the latest version of the PGG articles on your computer. After all, the articles are available for free from the Mothership. Always remember to have the latest version of your favourite guide viewer on your computer. After all the guide viewers are available for free from the Mothership. Always remember to write many PGG articles. After all the psychological reward is worth all the time writing and researching. Always remember to feed all field researcher that comes researching in your neighbourhood. After all who wants to face a bad review of ones own neighbourhood in the PGG :-) Thank you for your patience! Now back to the ordinary article... ...SSCCRRITTCCHH... ..concluding that ice cubes can make many drinks taste better and look more appetizing for the eye. Sometimes the ice cubes are crushed before they are put into drinks. A cheap way to get your hands on ice cubes to your drinks, is to travel to the parts of Earth that produces ice naturally. These parts might not be the first choice for an inexperienced hitchhiker, which tends to hang out in a warmer climate. For the hitchhikers that prefers to do the research in warmer places, a refrigerator with a freezing compartment or a freeze comes in handy. With these fantastic machines the talented hitchhikers can make their very own ice cubes. Just put water (preferable fresh) into some sort of box, why not choose an ice box. Make sure the temperature inside the freeze is lower than zero degrees Celsius, so that the water can transform into ice cubes. Wait for as long as it takes for the water to freeze. Open the freeze and take out the ice cubes. Now you can put your ice cubes into drinks or for fun inside some friend's shirt. If somebody wants to put ice cubes in your drink, don't be alarmed that the drink will be ruined. It will be just as drinkable with frozen water in it, as long as the water was fresh before the freezing process. Watch out for signs saying _ice unsafe here_ at parties. This sign is of course more common to see around lakes, so at parties you can count on the ice to be quite unsafe if this sign appears. Here is a tip on how you can make your ice cubes look a good deal better. Put fruits in the water and let it freeze into nicely looking ice cubes. For example you can freeze a strawberry in water and then put the resulting ice cube in a glass of champagne. Beware of using raisin for this trick; the ice cubes don't look any appetizing with a frozen raisin in it. Lastly the topic of ice cubes in whiskey (a.k.a. having the whiskey on the rocks). Some people think that ice cubes and whiskey mixes together perfectly. While other says that whiskey shouldn't be mix with anything, especially not ice cubes. For myself I think a touch of cold water can add flavour to most brands of whiskey. %e *EOA* %t Diet Coke %n 6R33 %s A Fattening Drink? %a Rick Yagodich (rick@sonnet.co.uk) %d 19950518 %e Ever noticed that no drinkers of Diet Coke are ever _thin_. And I thought it was supposed to help with weight loss as part of a calorie-controlled diet... ? %e *EOA* %t Inspiration, Lack Of %n 6R34 %s How To Write An Article About Not Having Inspiration To Write Articles %a Rickard Andersson (rickard@softlab.se) %d 19950512 %x Prolific Writing %x Writers' Block %x Rationalization %x Stories, Short %x Article Writing Guide For Field Researchers And Guide Editors %x Towns Article Writing Guide For Field Researchers %x Field Researchers, How To Recognize %x GAG, Guaranteed Articles Group %e This article explains how you deal with the lack of inspiration that can occur when you, being a notorious Field Researcher, are trying to write articles for the Project Galactic Guide (PGG). You, of course, are cursed with a deadline hanging above your head and you feel an obligation to the Guaranteed Articles Group (GAG) and the rest of the PGG people around the universe. Your inspiration is nil and the article theme you must write about feels almost as funny as the number 42. So you decide to rationalise the workload by trying to write a short as possible story to ease the pain of having to think about witty things to tell the world about something you don't want to write about. There is a great art in the concept of composing an article that people didn't even know they were going to read. One can put it more elegant, the art form of filling an article with the help of creative writing, is immensely underestimated. To start off writing without inspiration for the issue you should tell the world about, is a fantastic gift performed by your brain, as it composes sentences and with some co-processes thinks about food, drinks as other basic elements of life. Then, suddenly as you are typing along, you realise that you have written a quite acceptable article, so you can stop the writing and go to bed (or some nice party). So there you have it, the simple explanation on how to cope with the lack of inspiration. Just ignore the boring part of following a subject and wander of into the mist of loosely tied lines of babbling nonsense. %e *EOA* %t Financial Freedom %n 6R35 %s Advice For The Wannabe Seriously Rich Person %a Rick Yagodich (rick@rick.sonnet.co.uk) %d 19950506 %i Entrepreneurism %e Before I begin a discussion on the subject of financial freedom, I believe that I ought to explain what it is. Take the following, for example (all figures are in pounds sterling - adjust as appropriate for your local currency). If you were to increase your income next month by 1 pound, without doing any more work, most likely you would not notice the difference. Nowadays, it's not even enough to buy a drink at your local watering hole. Imagine then that the increase were not 1 pound, but 10 pounds still without going out of your way to "make" it. Again, the increase is very unlikely to be enough for you to notice it, though it is enough to take yourself out once - maybe to see that film you couldn't afford to before. The next step is more interesting, but still not anything fascinating: an extra 100 pounds per month coming in whether you like it or not - simply appearing in you bank account on the first (or whatever other) day of each and every month. Doubtlessly, this would make a difference to your lifestyle. It would pay off those bills that always seem to be left over at the end of the month - if, and this is a very big if for most people, you can budget your money effectively. Maybe it would allow you to move to a larger home - an extra 100 pounds per month in mortgage repayments substantially increases the size of place you can get - or just pay off the one you are already living in. Who knows, but there are not too many people for whom it would not make at least a small difference. Guess what, we now move to 1000 per month. No, it's not a huge amount of income, but for the majority of the population, it isn't too far off what they get paid anyway. This sort of automatic residual income is more than just money: it is one of two other things, depending on what you choose to do: either it is security, a cushion that will protect your lifestyle should you become unable to perform the tasks that produce your primary income; or it is time. If your job does not pay this much, and yet you have this sort of money coming in on the side, there comes a point where it is somewhat un-economical to continue with the job. Take a moment to think about it (and if you need to up it by a factor of 2 or 3, who's counting?) How would it change your life if you had a second income, equal to your primary income, that you did not have to perform for: an income that would find its way into your bank account if you made it out of bed or not? Would you continue working as you do, but live elsewhere, driving a nicer car (not that the car you presently drive isn't nice...), or take holidays in less crowded, sunnier places with finer sand? Would you tell your boss that you were only prepared to do (short) shift work, so you could get up when you felt like it, and head home on your own command? Or perhaps you would pick up the phone one morning and call in well ("Well, I ain't coming in no more.") I do not know what you would do, but your mind has probably already found a way to spend that extra 1000 every month. In deed, it is certainly not difficult to spend that sort of money. So we move on: 10000 each and every month!! This is easily enough to make most people decide to give up work (except the ones who have accumulated debt / overdraft / mortgage / etc in amounts that would make most "normal" people sick. True, there are some people who earn in excess of this amount, but how many of them have any _time_? How many of them have spent a whole day (with the possible exception of a Sunday) with their family in the last month? How many people earning six figure annual incomes can afford to take a week or two off - on a whim? Far be it from me to suggest that there are not people who have this level of freedom: indeed, they are the ones to look to for guidance in attaining financial freedom, but more of that later. Time now to get "silly." Actually, it is not that I consider the next step silly, it is purely an increment of a factor of ten, like all the others, but for some reason many people fail to be able to imagine it. Whatever the case, it is the most fun one mentioned so far: 100000 per month - in excess of 1 million a year. Too much money for one person? That is a question for someone else who is discussing ethics and beliefs, but if it is earned, there is no reason to say it is too much for a single person. And let's be really honest here, if that were your income, how much would you give away? (And anyone answering all - or almost all - of it is either angelic, foolish, or unaware of just how much 1.2 million is: you might give it away for the first few months, but not for all that long.) So, what would you do with this sort of residual income. Where would you live? You would not have to wait more than a few short months to buy at least a starting house in your location of choice. What car would you drive? Half a year would (almost) buy you a McLaren F1, the most expensive (as far as I know) car commonly available - yes, there are antiques and other non-production cars that cost more, but they are a totally different category. Where would you take your holidays? And how often? What would you do with all that time? Who would you help? Let's face it, would you bother about your gas and electricity bills? (or would you just pay off the next ten years in advance to save yourself a bit of hassle?) When shopping for clothes, would you finally look at what you are buying, or would you keep looking at the price tag to decide whether or not you like something? In restaurants, would you look down the right hand column first (as you do now), or would you decide what you want to eat, and not worry about the size of the bill? If you have ever thought that rich people were materialistic, find one and ask him/her. If they have worked for their money (lottery winners are not rich - or won't be for more than a few short years - and certainly didn't work for it), most of them are not. They enjoy toys: everybody likes toys, it's just that they can afford the ones everyone else just drools over. As an example, if two people - one a multi-millionaire and the other your average Joe - both crashed their cars, who would be more upset? The millionaire, who wrote off a 100000 pound Ferrari, or Joe, who's beat up old banger was worth twice as much when he filled it up with petrol? (It is those who don't have much who value the little the can get so highly: it is they who are really materialistic). So, back to the idea of financial freedom. Just what is it? To put it simply, it is having enough money coming in, that you _no longer_ need to work for, that you can buy back your _time_, and you can create true _security_. Of course, a definition of security would be helpful here. Security is being in a position whereby whatever happens to you, you have previously established a solid financial net for yourself and your family. How many jobs are secure? If a pilot's eye-sight shows even the slightest signs of deteriorating, he is out in the cold before he knows it. If a doctor looses the use of a hand and can no longer perform operations, his enviable salary goes flying out the window. Anyone else who becomes incapacitated in any way will find that, according to their boss, they "are no longer capable of performing their job to a satisfactory degree that they are worth employing." Security is being in a situation whereby whatever the external events, it makes no difference to your lifestyle. (Some people think that pension plans and insurance policies are the answer to their security worries, and I would not wish to say anything that would denigrate the very useful service these people provide: I simply must ask at this point, how secure are these plans. Are you, as an investor, the one controlling what happens to your money, or could the company involved belly up and die?) Financial freedom is a degree of personal freedom that most people never experience; not because there is anything stopping them, but because they do not understand the difference between price and cost. Price is a one- off amount. Cost is a long-term pricing system, based on usage, or overall expense. What I mean by this is that the average person will work for about 45 years, at (for simplicities sake) 50 weeks a year, putting in 40+ hours each and every week. This is only 8 hours a day, but it adds up. It totals 90000 hours, with nothing to show for it at the end. The "price" is low - just another eight hours - but the cost is life (the statistics on people's abilities to support themselves once they reach retirement age make for shocking reading). The alternative is to go out and do something different from the masses (more on that later). It is usually assumed that the entrepreneur will work anything from 12-18 hours per day, 6 or seven days a week (let's take 100 hours a week as an average), for all 52 weeks in the year (but for simplicity of calculations, let's say 50 again). That means that one year for the entrepreneur is 5000 hours. If it takes him a whole eighteen years to build up a business that is self-sufficient and no longer requires him to put in any of his time (and most achieve at least semi-profitable stability after 5-10), then time-wize he will be equal with someone who had a job, except that he finished 27 years ahead!! - and is most likely making far more. In other words, though the day by day price of living a normal life, with a job, is perhaps lower, the cost far exceeds that of seeking financial independence. Which would you rather: to put in twice the effort now so you can play for the rest of your life, or spend every week looking forward to Saturday until finally you retire with not only not enough money (or the health) to enjoy it, but not enough money to keep you in the lifestyle you were previously accustomed to. Thus the great question that is bound to be asked: "So Rick, what do I do to become financially independent?" There are probably as many answers as there are people who will ask that question, and I have no intention of listing any of them. All I will suggest, (having heard it time and again from people who have achieved financial independence on a massive scale) is that you read positive books, listen to inspirational tapes, and attend self-development and other motivational functions. Also, if there is someone who is already successful in the area you finally choose for yourself, go to them as a student, learn from them, learn from their mistakes, model yourself after them. Do what the average person in the streets is not prepared to do. Get out of your rut (a rut is nothing but a grave without ends). Be like the 5% who can afford to enjoy their lives when they reach retirement age. Now, I am in no position to give a list of good generic tapes (the ones I listen to are specific to what I am doing in my pursuit of financial independence), but I can recommend some books (in no particular order - asterisk (*) indicates must-reads for everyone even vaguely interested in some level of higher success, but then, they're all good). The Magic of Thinking Big*, David J Schwartz How to Win Friends and Influence People*, Dale Carnegie How to be Rich, John Paul Getty Millionaire Mentality, Dexter Yager Awaken the Giant Within, Anthony Robbins Do It!, John-Roger and Peter McWilliams Unlimited Wealth, Paul Zane Pilzer Over the Top, Zig Ziglar The Popcorn Report, Faith Popcorn Any (auto)biographies of highly successful people. Anything recommended to you by someone who has what it is you truly desire. That's all from me on the subject of financial freedom, at least for tonight. All that remains for me to say is this: I'll see you at the top, on the beaches of the world, whichever route you choose to take. Dare to live your dreams. %e *EOA* %t Multi-Level Marketing %n 6R36 %s All UK Shoppers Beware; You Are Under Arrest %a Rick Yagodich (rick@rick.sonnet.co.uk) %d 19950511 %e OK, first things first, the facts of UK law. People participating in Multi-Level Marketing (MLM) schemes must abide by certain rules, one of which concerns the pricing of the goodsand services they offer. Namely, they are not permitted to raise the price of an item as they pass it on down the chain - they make their money on bonuses. So let's look at what is an MLM - and I am not talking about the things that are usually referred to as MLMs: I am talking about things that are really Multi-Level. Well, how can we define multi-level. Would you agree that something where there's a guy in charge, who dictates (to a greater or lesser extent) what those below him do is at least dual-level? - I thought so. Of course it is. The boss is on one level, and the drones are on another level. Next, turn some of those drones into middle management, and you've got multi-level. On top of that, you've got the corporate structure of 99.99% of all the businesses (with employees) in the world. Thus, an MLM, by the definition of the words, is any company that is involved in marketing that has a normal corporate structure... See where this is going? Let's look at it another way. MLM - one guy buys something, and sells it on to a bunch of other guys (who could never use it all themselves) who are in turn going to sell it on to other guys, ad infinitum (almost) until such a time as some people buy just the amount of the stuff they really want. I don't know about you, but that reminds me of every conventional business out there... - and they hike up the price all the time. Thus, whichever of the above definitions you take as being the definition of Multi-Level Marketing, anyone who purchases anything from a normal store is quite obviously guilty of aiding and abating a criminal activity (the store's suppliers - a mark-up from wholesale to retail is legal) and thus liable to be prosecuted as an accessory after the facts (which is just as bad as doing it yourself)... Well, what can I say: fun shopping... %e *EOA* %t Bliss At Imperial College %n 2R195 %a Alex McLintock (alex@arcfan.demon.co.uk) %s Black Leather In Science Society (BLISS) %d 19950528 %x Imperial College Science Fiction Society %e Few people will argue that Imperial College students are an apathetic bunch wherever anything other than college work (or drinking) is concerned. A most interesting exception to this is the club BLISS. This was recently rediscovered in an old union handbook but unfortunately the society no longer exists. The following was a piece of their publicity which is being republished without the author's permission in the hope that the society is restarted. Creased and supple, subtle crack Dull, yet vital vibrant black Worn through time as aeons pass Of bikes and bondage, speed and grass Caught forever, caged in mind Thongs to keep the darker kind For speed and victory, power and lust No doubt there is the black to trust. Worn with care, holds wrist and arm Black is power, beauty, charm Senses sharpened, muscles keyed Disgrace to mercy, cowards plead Wrapped and knotted, skin tight fit Hugging body, soothing wit Conscience clothed, triumphant kiss One with honour, yours truly, BLISS. %e *EOA* %t Chicken And Egg Dilemma %n 6R37 %s Scientific Proof Of The Pre-Existence Of Chickens %a Dirk Van Deun (hw41652@is1.vub.ac.be) %d 19950620 %e In this article I will prove that the so-called Dilemma of the Chicken and the Egg is, in reality, not a dilemma at all. The question, which of the two was there first, is a simple question, that can be solved. It was Darwin who made it possible to provide the correct answer, as I will do in this scholarly article, but also before Darwin there can never have been a Dilemma, as all myths about the Creation I know of speak of the creation of animals, not of eggs. The famous Dilemma of the Chicken and the Egg, in other words, is nothing but a sham. Nowadays we know that chickens, or eggs, for that matter, were not created by God, but that they are the product of a long evolution, and that makes the Dilemma more difficult to solve. But it can be done. To begin with, we have to specify that we will be speaking about chickens and chicken's eggs, not about chickens and any kind of eggs, because in that case, the answer is trivial and uninteresting. This seems evident, but I mention it because of its importance further in this discussion. Let us call the animal which preceded chickens in the evolution of the species the primeval chicken, or p-chicken for short. The difference between chicken and p-chicken is probably small and arbitrary, but it must be possible to differentiate between them, although the criterion we will use will be chosen more or less arbitrarily by biologists. In the remainder of this article I will speak about chickens and p-chickens as if we all know the difference; what exactly this difference is, is unimportant to us philosophers. One day a p-chicken must have laid an egg, out of which a modern chicken emerged. The arrival of this strange chicken has maybe happened on several occasions independently, and the first modern chicken might not be the ancestor of all our chickens, or it might even have died childless, but this is of no importance for our discussion. The only factor of importance is, whether the egg out of which the first modern chicken was born, was a real chicken's egg. If this egg actually was a chicken's egg, then the Egg existed before the Chicken, if not, it can only have originated later. Now we still have to define a chicken's egg. At first sight, there seem to be three possibilities: a chicken's egg is an egg laid by a chicken (we might call this the popular definition of a chicken's egg), or a chicken's egg is an egg out of which a chicken is born, or a chicken's egg is an egg laid by a chicken, out of which a chicken is born. In fact, only the first definition can be right, because also the eggs we eat, which most certainly do not contain chickens, are called chicken's eggs. And on top of that, if eggs were named after what they contained, there would also have to exist cock's eggs. No, the genitive form can only refer to the maker, not to the inhabitant of the egg. So, as the egg, out of which the first chicken emerged, cannot have been a chicken's egg, because it was laid by a p-chicken, and as we have clearly stated that the Egg in the Dilemma of the Chicken and the Egg can only have been meant as a chicken's egg, I conclude that the Egg came into existence after the Chicken. With the remark, that for once the old creation myths and modern science have come to the same conclusion, I finally put an end to this learned discussion. %e *EOA* * * End of file: REAL10.NEW * Share and Enjoy! *