* * Archive: UREAL04.NEW * * Created on: Tue Aug 3 15:24:41 1999 * * Number of articles: 25 * * 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: * * 2U73-1 CASIP And AAAAAAA * 2U74-1 Rocks And Electricity * 2U75-1 Sports: Words One Should Know * 2U76-1 Krishna And Rama * 6U1-1 Kibo, Who Is * 6U2-1 Hold, Please * 2U77-1 Scott's Insurance * 2U78-1 Random Dot Stereo Movies * 2U79-1 Single Speaker Stereo Signal, The * 6U3-1 Homeopathy - Article Two * 6U4-1 Lobster Beings * 2U80-1 Tripythgoras VII * 2U81-1 Origin Of Stupidity, The * 6U5-1 Inventions * 6U6-1 Carpets * 2U82-1 Quantum Leaping * 2U83-1 Diddley-Squat * 2U84-1 Sanity, The Problem Of * 2U85-1 CAT * 6U7-1 Where News Articles Go Until They Reappear * 6U8-1 Shoe Civilisation * 2U86-1 Fourth Dimension, Creatures From The * 2U87-1 Hyneline, R. A. * 2U88-1 Playbeing Centrefolds * 2U89-1 Reciprocity Bugs * %t CASIP And AAAAAAA %n 2U73 %s Groups To Avoid %a Alexander Lachlan McLintock (alexmc@biccdc.co.uk) %d 19940819 %e CASIP - The Campaign Against Snogging In Public spends much of its time hanging around the underground train system in London and several other major capitals. When they come across amorous couples engaged in kissing (a homosapien prelude to intercourse) they comment on this to each other with the intention of embarrassing the young people. Typical comments include: "Don't tongues feel like slugs?" "Let's suck face!" and general slurping noises. It has been known for CASIP members to hold up numbered cards in the fashion of Olympic gymnastics judges. The moral rationale behind this is that most people in a train carriage would also like to be kissing their loved ones - or other people on the train - or even _have_ loved ones - but they cannot due to public decency. CASIP aims to deliver them from this unwarranted temptation. ("Out of sight, out of mind.") CASIP is rumoured to have been started by a lonely Imperial College student who couldn't get laid and would get really pissed off when he would go to the bar and see scores of nubile young female students cavorting with students other than himself. Of course we cannot guarantee the accuracy of such rumours which may have been made up as a slur against the college. (After all it sounds reasonable except for the bit about "scores of females.") AAAAAAA - The All American Association Against Acronym Abuse Anonymous. 'nuff said. %e *EOA* %t Rocks And Electricity %n 2U74 %s Land Formations Of The Planet Dennom %a Alexander Lachlan McLintock (alexmc@biccdc.co.uk) %d 19940819 %e When travelling on the planet Dennom be careful where you tread. Local volcanic land formations contain peizo-electric substances. On putting pressure on these cones you will be given an electric shock - the strength dependant on the size of the cone and how many McDog's polystyrene burger cartons you have eaten (i.e., your weight). Fortunately for the planet's tourist industry, this does have its benefits. A web of high quality electrical cable covers the planet - which drives the largest natural loud speaker system in the known universe. (See references to "Rock Music.") %e *EOA* %t Sports: Words One Should Know %n 2U75 %s Words One Should Know In Sports %a Alexander Lachlan McLintock (alexmc@biccdc.co.uk) %d 19940819 %e Gleep - (n) The expression on a pole-vaulter's face as he comes down from vaulting a very high bar without knocking it off. Slobberchops - (n) The expression on a runner's face when caught by a slow motion camera. This is characterized by open mouths and waving cheeks. Unlucky - (adj) Someone shot by the starter's pistol. Murray - (vt) To murray someone is to cause them to lose a wheel, crash, run out of petrol, or be over taken, simply by uttering the phrase "Surely Nigel has won the race now" anytime before crossing the finishing line. Twaddle - (n) The swaying movement of the buttocks in speed walking events. %e *EOA* %t Krishna And Rama %n 2U76 %s Become A Member Of The Hara Krishnas! %a Jordan Hubbard (jkh@whisker.hubbard.ie) * * Found in alt.humor.best-of-usenet by Roel van der Meulen * (vdmeulen@strw.leidenuniv.nl) * %d 19940724 %i Advertising, Krishna And Rama %e Isn't there something better? Are you in a rut? Has corporate life let you down? Need some extra income? A new life with The Hari Krishnas may be just what you need! The Krishnas are the marketing arm of Hinduism, rated the *hottest religion in the world* in 1993. Thanks to the god Rama, thousands of people in North America have been able to catch the vision of success and financial independence through wearing yellow robes, beating on drums and walking down city streets or lurking outside airports, chanting and begging for money ... full- *or* part-time. Now membership in this religion is available in the U.K., Ireland, the Netherlands, France, and Belgium, as well as in the U.S. and Canada. Additional countries are steadily being added. If you're ready for the *opportunity of a lifetime* then write or call *now* for more information! The Gods Krishna and Rama The Krishna Institute & Macrame' Flower Pot Hanger Collective 5409 Hari Rama Drive, Anytown, USA Phone: 800-HRI-KSNA Fax: 800-HRI-RAMA Email: TheKrishnas@Rama.ORG %e *EOA* %t Kibo, Who Is %n 6U1 %s The History Of Kibo And Anews %a Rudrik Greyshadow (Author unavailable via Internet) * * Recruited from alt.humor.best-of-usenet by Roel van der Meulen * (vdmeulen@strw.leidenuniv.nl) * %d 19940830 %e Ah, KIBO! Sit back my children and I will tell you a story. This is an old story, predating the mysteries of the threads, the story of nn, and even the wondrous glamour of RN. It was a time before the great Readnews stretched its arms across the world. The story of KIBO, it is believed, even predates the great Flame wars. When KIBO entered the world it was a time of peace and sharing; a time of tranquillity; a time when the world consisted of less than 100 different groups. The land of Anews, was a rich land of rolling hills and minor bugs. Anews was a small and manageable land, and its meager resources were more than ample to support it's growing population. And Anews prospered. The land was green and outsiders came to the wondrous Anews. And these settlers demanded new things. They wanted Anews to expand to become better. They wanted the council to provide them, the outsiders, with more services and more groups. Alas the council could not keep up with the new demands and the dwindling resources and the expansion. So it came to pass that the time came when Anews could no longer contain itself within its boundaries and the Council of Elders gathered. For many nights the council debated. Many toes were stepped on and there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth. And finally, when they emerged, the council decided that they should war on their neighbors. The outsiders came from their neighbors and so Anews would expand into the outsiders lands. Ah the Anews wars were a glorious time... with many heroes.... But we are here to hear the story of KIBO.... perhaps I shall tell you of the wars later. As Anews grew the council became divided. The high elders wished to maintain the old systems, while the youngers on the council wanted change. And thus the Great and glorious Bnews fraction sprang to life. Anews was limiting themselves, trying to manage the large populous with their old small populous ideas. Bnews knew that the new order required rethinking and a series of Justices to over see some of the more prolific groups. Once in place these Moderators freed the council to look further toward expansion... and expand they did. But all was not happy in the land of Bnews... for the new council thought that they were being slighted in the new order. And Chief of these Renegade Nobles was KIBO. It was KIBO, who crawled through the mire to discover the younger councils plot to sabotage his divine right. It was KIBO who spurred the R Ns to overthrow the younger council. It was KIBO who insisted on keeping KILL files for those he thought were out to challenge HIS supremacy. And all RN cowered under the rule of the great KIBO. And the People of readnews, as KIBO called his lands, made mistakes, and sent errant missives. And they would cry KIBO help me; and KIBO would dispatch his glorious assassins to Cancel the missive. The receivers cried: "What have you done?", "Why have you done this?" To which the assassins would darkly reply: "Killed Intentionally By Owner" as they faded back into the inky black darkness from which they emerged. And that my children is the story of KIBO for now..... Next week: The Great Flame Wars. (or Welcome to Hell; please put on your asbestos suit) %e *EOA* %t Hold, Please %n 6U2 %s Boo-boo, be-doodle, Ba ba ba ba ba ba baba de-hmmmm %a Mark Anthony Young (myoung@ace.acadiau.ca) %d 19930903 * %x Project Galactic Guide * %x Phone Company * %x Insipid Music Lovers Conspiracy to Dominate the Universe %e Hello, you have reached the newsgroup of Project Galactic Guide, providing joy and happiness and sexual fulfillment to millions of sentient beings around the Universe. All of our contributers are busy enjoying summer holidays right now, so please hold until the Fall and your call will be answered after the coconut oil has run out. In the meantime, we will play you an insipid little tune designed by our top-notch advertising executives to be absolutely inoffensive in any way to any group or powerful individual, and yet to somehow get under the dermal covering of any being forced to listen to it for more than three milliseconds. Thank you for calling Project Galactic Guide, and please don't mind the wait. Hmmmm-hmm hmmmm-hmm, de-diddle, de-diddle Ba ba ba ba ba ba baba de-hmmmm So-hmmm dabba-da de-diddle woo-oo Ba ba ba ba ba ba baba de-hmmmm Hmmmm-hmm hmmmm-hmm, de-diddle, ta-liddle Be be be be be-doo Thank you for continuing to hold. The contributors to Project Galactic Guide have merely stepped out of the virtual office for a few moments to enjoy the sun and sand and scantily clad members of the appropriate sex that are so abundant in this neighbourhood. We quite understand your desire to communicate with one of our froody contributors, or our even more hoopy executives, but you must understand that they can't be bothered to speak with you until all of the infinitely more entertaining activities around here have been exhausted -- and when we say exhausted, we mean _exhausted_, if you catch our drift, wink, wink, nudge, nudge. Anyway, to keep you entertained while you're waiting, and to fulfill the obligations imposed on us by the Phone Company and the Insipid Music Lovers Conspiracy to Dominate the Universe, here is some more inoffensive music. Ho-wah be-diddle, hmm-hmm ta-liddle Ba ba ba ba ba ba baba de-hmmmm Hm-bah pa-twiddle, hmm-hmm be-diddle Ba ba ba ba ba ba baba de-hmmmm Ho-pah me-giddle, hmm-hmm be-diddle Be be be be be-doo Thank you for your continuing interest in Project Galactic Guide. As you can probably tell, our contributors still aren't back from the fabulous beach party they've been attending since Spring started here on Canis Major Beta. In fact, we don't expect any of them back for quite some time, since Canis Major Beta was specifically chosen with its multi-year Summers in mind. Still, here is some light music to keep you entertained until the Sangria is gone. La ba be-da, hmm hmm hmm ba dummmm Ba ba ba ba ba ba baba de-hmmmm La ba be-la, la la la de-dummmm Ba ba ba ba ba ba baba de-hmmmm Be-wah de-hummm, la la la le-lummmm Be be be be be-doo Are you still on the line? Gosh, I must say I admire your stamina. We'd probably invite you to our party if you didn't have such bad taste in music. I mean, really, you've listened to three verses of that song and still haven't hung up. Anyway, the party's nearly over, and the contributers will be dragging their hang-overs and social diseases back into the offices within days. If you'll just bear with us a little while longer, one of our clever contributers will appear and make your miserable life that much brighter. Me ma ba la ba la ba-doo Ba ba ba ba ba ba baba de-hmmmm Me ma ba la ba ba pa-loo Ba ba ba ba ba ba baba de-hmmmm Sha sha sha sha sha sha sha-shoo Be be be be be-doo ..................... . . . . %e *EOA* %t Scott's Insurance %n 2U77 %s Most Successful Insurance Company in Creation %a Scott Gastineau (gastisc@wkuvx1.wku.edu) %d 19941121 %i Insurance Policies %i Money for Nothing %e It is common knowledge that within some quadrants of the galaxy, Insurance Salesman are the most feared form of life ever to move between planets. With such sentiments often running wild in the galaxy as a whole, it would only seem logical that successful insurance companies are rare. Strangely enough, the opposite is true. Insurance is a highly successful business in which to become involved. For example, I know one fellow by the name of Andrew the Drew from Henderson, Kentucky (that's the planet of Henderson in the super cluster Kentucky -- Must you darn Terrains think that everything is about you?). Andrew the Drew was a Drew that invested his meager inheritance from his grandparents, also Drews. He wisely chose to invest his money in insurance rates. Andrew the Drew now owns the planet of Henderson. To get back to the point though (yes, there is a point), insurance remains a profitable business despite the absolute hatred of the industry. Some have theorized that this is why the industry is successful. These same people are in the habit of insulting their own customers whenever possible and have yet to experience the same phenomenal success as the insurance industry. Some of the more historically prosperous insurance agencies have thrived by way of name recognition. Insurance Company executives name their corporations after the sounds made by people who experience accidents, so that person will naturally think about said insurance company whenever that person requires its services. This policy has brought about the names of such well-known institutions as Mutual of Ohmygod and Blue Cross/Blue $#!?. When a normal frood hears the term "insurance," one specific insurance company should come to mind, assuming the presence of a mind. That one firm is Scott's Insurance, the most successful insurance company in the entire history of the galaxy. Salesbeings that are employed by Scott's Insurance can be found in prisons spanning the cosmos. The basic policy offered by Scott's Insurance, including the medical requirement to be approved by a physician. This form has been copied into the Guide below. Scott's Insurance Policy ------------------------ (not available to any terminally ill-type folks) According to this policy, anyone who signs themselves up to this policy must pay a monthly sum and in return Scott's Insurance (all right reserved) will insure your life. This means that if you die, Scott's Insurance (all rights reserved) will pay you a lump sum. You must be present and sign many pieces of paper to collect the money. If you are not present to collect the money at a designated time and place, then though luck! Under said circumstances, Scott's Insurance (all rights reserved) will owe you ZIP. If you haven't read this far, then you are a likely customer. Whatever dumb lump of tar (all rights reserved) decides to buy this insurance policy for themselves (probably you) must pay to us a monthly sum of whatever that person has left over from paying us the previous month. Dear Doctors, please fill out the following information. Name of doctor (an alias will do if you're in trouble with the law) ______________________________ Who to contact in case this doctor requires bail money ______________________________ Name of victim/patient (all rights reserved) ______________________________ Age of person who wants policy from Scott's Insurance (all rights reserved)__________________________ Occupation of person in question (preferably a sex-therapist, never a copper)___________________________ Any illness this person had (like we care) ______________________________ Any birthmarks, deformities, or unusually large breasts ______________________________ We at Scott's Insurance (all rights reserved) would like to point out that this is all legal because it was originally written on a legal pad. Also Scott's Insurance (aw, you know) has included the following legal mumbo- jumbo to keep the DA off out backs. The first party must kick the second party in the et cetera unless a foul is called, etc. Jive -- The flux capacitor when groovy can corrode any butimus maximus so magatmus that ofsdufois osfdjsdofjsdoijfosd with a given Fahrvergnugen. Thereby and therefore, iwxdm,vmoiwjfmsdmfwifmdmifd (all Miranda rights requested) may bneitoiamepokc fjed fejkljksdl. Froody. And may the force be with you. By the way, no one who ever has, had, or ever will have a lawyer may sign this policy or it will be void and numb. %e *EOA* %t Random Dot Stereo Movies %n 2U78 %s The Noise On Your TV Isn't Noise %a Roel van der Meulen (vdmeulen@strw.leidenuniv.nl) %d 19941014 %i 3D Movies, How To See Them On Your Own TV %x Random Dot Stereograms * %k TV * %k Noise * %k 3D %e "There are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy." This quote from Shakespeare has found new meaning in the introduction of random dot stereo movies. It has recently been discovered that the time between television broadcasts isn't filled up with noise, like everybody thought all along; it's used for broadcasts of an altogether unidentified broadcast station. Owen B. Styl, the bloke who stumbled on this after looking at random dot stereograms for a whole day, was immediately after announcing what he'd found taken away in a suspicious looking van. Speculations on the identity of the occupants are still inconclusive. They may have been secret service officials or some of those dreaded "men in white," supposedly aliens. At least it is certain that they took off in an vehicle made to look like an ambulance. Unfortunately, O. B. Styl didn't manage to tell more than the simple information that random dot stereo movies were transmitted. Thus we can't tell WHAT the broadcasts are and WHO made them. Even extensive attempts haven't revealed anything to this author. I would therefore like to ask the readers to take a look themselves and to report findings to me. There is a rumour that x-rated movies are involved, but alien transmissions are just as possible. Remember, random dot stereograms take some time to apprehend, so expect moving pictures to take even longer. Don't let this discourage you. %e *EOA* %t Single Speaker Stereo Signal, The %n 2U79 %s Mono-Radios Playing Noise Can Give Stereo Sound! %a Roel van der Meulen (vdmeulen@STRW.LeidenUniv.NL) %d 19941117 %i Mono Stereo, The %i Random Frequency Mono-Stereo Signal, The %x Random Dot Stereo Movies %x Random Dot Stereograms * %k Stereo * %k Noise * %k Radio * %k Mono %e The present hype of random dot stereograms and random dot stereo movies has induced another invention. After some months of research it is now possible to produce a signal that, when played on a radio with just one speaker, first sounds like the noise you get in between channels but when you focus your ears on infinity lets you hear sounds in stereo. So far only one broadcasting company has started broadcasting programs with help of this wholly remarkable technique. They are the same dudes who aired the TV channel that brings the images of goldfish in an aquarium to your home 24 hours a day. They have now begun to transmit a radio signal that, when played on a mono speaker radio set, allows you to hear, in stereo, the sea! %e *EOA* %t Homeopathy - Article Two %n 6U3 %s Homeopathic Water Theory Revisited %a Professor Placebo (dapriest@cln.etc.bc.ca) * Recruited by Roel van der Meulen (vdmeulen@strw.LeidenUniv.nl) %d 19941203 %x Homeopathy %e I have, through extensive experimentation, determined that air itself is homeopathic -- or, rather, that humidity alone is enough to cure all illness. Following the general homeopathic principals of near-infinite dilution, I have reduced the water content of the subjects' air through the simple expedient of removing all their air supply. As my theory had predicted, all subjects soon ceased complaints of their illnesses! As I, like many, wish to see an end to illness, I hereby renounce right of ownership of this new homeopathic technique, in the hopes that homeopathic practitioners the world over can make use of it without cost. %e *EOA* %t Lobster Beings %n 6U4 %s A Friendly Alien Race %a Chris Tann, The (chris_tann@bigfoot.com) %d 19950202 %x Towel, Chris Tann's %x Sunglasses, Chris Tann's %x Emu Export Lager (TM) %x Crayfishing, The Art Of %e The following is an eye-witness account of one Hitchhiker's experiences: THE LOBSTER BEINGS ================== It all started one drunken night at Rottnest. We were staying in a flat at Longreach, which is quite a long way off from the pub and night-life. Longreach consists of two parallel lines of houses, the first quite high and overlooking the second, with a small road in between the two. The houses were quite nice, single story but all joined together, a little like English terrace houses. We were in one on the back row, so we had a balcony that looked over the second row of houses. It was a quiet night. We had been partying pretty solidly for about four days, and it seemed that there was a unanimous, unspoken decision to have an early night. Or at least, almost unanimous. I was unanimous that it was a night to party! My beer supplies were short. We had finished the hard booze, and everyone else had crashed out at around midnight, leaving me and my towel alone at the table. I had my towel in classic party-mode form - that is, rolled into a batman-style cape, and slung around my neck. I took stock of my situation: Clothing: bare feet, board shorts and a Manic Depressive Society T-shirt, blue towelling cape, and reflect-o sunglasses. Supplies: 4 cold cans of Emu Export Lager. Unfortunately this was well after the days of steel cans, but at least with the aluminium cans, you have the advantage of a plastic six-pack holder to carry them in. Companions: None. All wimped out, the pikers. OK, maybe I should excuse them a little. We had some crayfishing planned for the next day, so they had gone to bed early. I was following a hitch hikers recommendation, and not going to sleep. So, with my meagre possessions, I decided to head out, and see what action I could find. I wandered along the first line of houses - nothing. All dark and quiet. I got down to the road, and came back along the second line of houses. At last, a party! Lights, noise, action. I attempted a classic "Gate Crashers Entrance", and strolled into the room as if I knew at least half the people. Well, the plan was a brave one, and as usual the only thing in the path of complete success was that old bastard - reality. It's great pretending to know half the people, but when there are only three to start with, it gets a little tricky to pull off. I managed to pull it off anyway, using a certain measure of bravado, sat down, and opened a beer. They didn't seem particularly interested in me though. There were 2 guys and a girl, all about 16, playing loud music, and then yelling over the music to be heard. I spoke to them a little bit, but whatever trip it was they were on, it didn't have any room for outsiders. I finished my beer, and blew that crazy dive. I opened my pre-penultimate beer, and headed off along the road, planning to make the circle back to our house. It was here that things started to get wierd. The story as I later told it was as follows: "I was walking back up the road, when I heard a strange whistling sound all around me. (I purse my lips and demonstrate this.) My body seemed to waver, like really bad Young-Ones style special effects, and I found myself in, what I figured to be, a spaceship. There were two or three creatures watching me, that could only be described as Lobster Beings - half manlike, but with lobster feelers and eyes, and normal arms with pincers for hands. (At this point I had my hand underneath my nose, wiggling my fingers, in the international "squidy/crabby/lobstery type thing" sign.) They looked at me, and said "We see you have two cans of beer". They were quite right. I had finished my second can of beer, and had the last two, still in the six-pack holder. With great wit and forethought, I replied, "Err, yes?" "Can we have one", one Lobster Being asked. I considered this for a moment, and said "Sure!", and handed one over. I am not quite sure what he planed to do with it, because I couldn't see any sort of mouth he could drink it with. They then asked me if I would like to go to a party, and of course, I agreed. They then told me that they were going to have to remove my sarcasm gland, as they were impervious to all forms of physical attack, but sarcasm kills them instantly. I found this strange, but readily agreed. They pricked me with something, just behind and below one of my ears (I don't recall which one), and then we set off for the party. The party was wild, but I don't seem to remember any actual details. "So, they dropped me off home afterwards, but with a 100 million light year (or thereabouts) journey, their navigation was not too exact, and they missed by three houses. I didn't check this, and after hammering on the door for ten minutes, I decided that no one was going to let me in, and so I lay down, pulled my towel over myself, and went to sleep." About this time, I realised that I had been telling this story for about half an hour, without a pause, to a group of my friends, and I couldn't actually remember any of the story! I had to ask them to repeat to me what I had just told them. So, the facts that we have, are that I remember clearly walking up the road behind the houses, with two cans of beer, and then I came to in a room full of my friends, with one can of beer. They had been off to catch crayfish, and on the way back, one had seen a flash of familiar blue in a garden three doors down from our hut. She checked, and sure enough, it was my towel, and even surer enough, I was underneath it, asleep and cuddling one warm can of beer. They woke me up and took me back to the flat, where I lay down and started to recount this wonderful story. The funny thing was, I wasn't sarcastic for a week afterwards. %e *EOA* %t Tripythgoras VII %n 2U80 %s The Legend Of The Tripythgorean Bugfly %d 19950129 %a Gerry Canavan (VSUD56B@prodigy.com) %i Tripythgorean Bugfly, The %e Tripythgoras VII - Around a rather large red sun in the fashionable "downtown" area of the galaxy, there lies a small planetoid called Tripythgoras VII. There were only two forms of life on Tripythgoras VII: the Tripythgorean Bugfly and its food, the Tripythgorean Prey. Despite the fact that they were huge, deformed flies, the Tripythgoreans were able to build a great trading empire during the height of the old Galactic Empire. Tripythgoras VII traded novelty pencils. Its novelty pencils were renowned far and wide as the finest pencils in the known universe. Then came the great economic collapse. In the harsh depression that followed, people suddenly had no use for novelty pencils. In fact, due to people's tendency to look for someone to blame whenever anything goes wrong, people began to look down on funny pencils and their creators. The people of Tripythgoras VII were scorned and ignored, and across the galaxy people burned their pencils in effigy. This dark time is, of course, where we get the now common expression, "You idiot! You're as stupid as a Tripythgorean Bugfly!" Whenever anyone is considered the dumbest person in the entire known universe, one usually wishes to forget they exist. And this is exactly what the Tripythgoreans did. As a race, they forgot they existed. Or at least this is what present-day scientists believe. It is often hard to find out what someone is thinking when they will not talk to you. Scientists would often visit the planetoid and interview them: SCIENTIST: How are you? BUGFLY: Are you talking to me? SCIENTIST: Yes. BUGFLY: Why? There's no one here. SCIENTIST: I'm here, and you're here. BUGFLY: Who's here? SCIENTIST: I'm here; you're here; we're here. BUGFLY: We're here? There's only one of you... SCIENTIST: No, WE'RE here...oh forget it...I'm just going to go any study the Jacawanger of Felpinus Six. At least I don't have to talk to THAT freak. And so, today, it is generally accepted that the Tripythgorean Bugfly no longer acknowledges its own existence. And its a shame, too. The galaxy could really use some good novelty pencils. %e *EOA* %t Origin Of Stupidity, The %n 2U81 %s Stupid Things %a George Jakubaas (jakubaas@ragehard.limmat.net.ch) %d 19950209 %e Dr. Herb Larkooney of Fronkle II, Fronkle System, devoted his life to the investigation of the Origin of Stupidity. He never really got into it, however. (Soon after his decision to study Stupidity he lost his virginity.) His book entitled "Extremely Stupid Things to Say, Do and Think (During Sex)" contains 15 pages, contents included. On 14 pages he describes the best sex he ever had. His book became an immediate best-seller, spending 377 GAPs at the top of the "Galactic Chart of Readable Books." Dr. Larkooney died a happy man. Larkooney's life impressed many people, especially intellectuals. Many started their own searches into the Origin of Stupidity, hoping to lead lives similar to Larkooney's. Most of them failed and were put into strange padded cells for such a long time, that afterwards they didn't even know who Garlop Dronglebweep was and why he ate all those light bulbs! Fact is, every single university had a special ORSTUP (Origin of Stupidity) department which dealt with the above mentioned matter only. This happened to develop the longest, least interesting, and most boring studies in the history of time. One single attempt to find out more about Stupidity was successful. The research was done by a human called Prep Holler. Holler studied without support of a university. He researched, alone, his whole life, traveling for years in time and space and wrote a single book entitled, _Bah! Dumbness!_. It is 29,642 pages long and is shipped together with the interesting brochure titled "Bah! Reading 29,642 pages!" Mr. Holler claimed to have found the cradle of stupidity. He even asserted to have found the stupidest person in the universe. He traced this person's genealogy until he found a strange amoeba swimming in a yellowish-greenish puddle about 13 million years back, which is (or was) as he declared, the Mother of Stupidity. Although he knew the names of the stupidest person and the planet on which this person lived, he never revealed them. He was afraid that it might overthrow the balance of the universe if the inhabitants of the galaxy suddenly blamed one single person for all the stupid mistakes ever made. His theory states that if suddenly all the hatred, frustration, and rage of the entire galaxy were concentrated on one planet, that planet would change silently and irreversibly into an extremely unattractive, radioactive turnip. Mr. Prep Holler died a very unhappy man, as his book sold only one copy. It is said he bought it himself. Rumors say that the name of the planet is "Arth, Aerth, or Erth." %e *EOA* %t Inventions %n 6U5 %s I Would Really Like To See Someone Invent ... %a Jim Trash (Jim@scream.demon.co.uk) * (jimt@cix.compulink.co.uk) * BBS UK (01)532 529675 %d 19950302 %e I Would Really Like to See Someone Invent ... An Alcohol Alarm ---------------- I'd really like a device to warn people when I've consumed enough alcohol to render my brain inactive. Perhaps a flashing neon sign above my head telling all I've now passed beyond the gibbering stage into the totally incoherent. Possibly different colours to signify the extent of my self-induced disability. White for sober, green for wobbly, pink for garrulous, red for manic, and black for comatose. I wonder how such a device would react to the presence of LSD. Maybe a technicolour firework fest with the obligatory sonic booooooom!!! A Dog Zapper ------------ Next time a dog comes charging at me with throaty growls and bared teeth I'd really like to point my finger toward it and shoot out a cloud of instant sleeping gas. A snappy solution to a very noisy and scary problem. A possible development of this could be the nerd zapper. Portable Fish ------------- There are few things I find more peaceful and relaxing than the sight of fish mooching about in a large and well cared for tank. Unfortunately they're never available at times of extreme stress such as when you've just missed the last bus home or you've lost your car keys down a sewage pipe or you're just about to be assaulted by a gang of crowbar wielding thugs. What's needed in these situations is an inflatable fish tank you could erect in the street in order to sit and relax whilst coming to terms with the situation. Possibly an inflatable table and chair could be provided as accessories so you could have a meal whilst watching the fish. I'm sure this would reduce even the most stressful situations to a more acceptable level and therefore make the world a happier place. Word Jumbler ------------ All too often I find myself without any reading material. I've brought a book out with me but find it had fewer pages than I had thought. Much of the bulk of the book being taken up with notes on the author, the references, other books by the same author and famous suits once seen in the same town as the author. What I need is a word jumbler which I can use on the book to change the words around so as to create a completely new story from the same book. This would mean I might never have to buy another book ever again. A truly worthwhile item for all those who wish to make the most of their book purchases. Linoleum -------- Now, I'm aware that this has already been invented but I don't think we make the most of this marvellous material. All too often we spill wine, soup, beer, tea, gravy, tomato sauce and all manner of things on the carpet only too see it soak in and disappear from view. If we laid linoleum in such a manner as to form ridges and circles we could collect some of the spillages and use them to create a most excellent base for a stew. It's little things such as these which need to be addressed by modern day inventors. Forget splitting the atom and all that irrelevant wibble. We're looking toward a brave new world of modern comforts and pocket sized solutions. Buy your innovations catalogue today. %e *EOA* %t Carpets %n 6U6 %s A Mostly Unhappy Species %a Roel van der Meulen (vdmeulen@strw.leidenuniv.nl) * Another Guaranteed Articles Group Article (AGAGA) %d 19950317 * %k Belly Button Lint * %k Possums * %k Evolution %e Some millions of years ago a couple of possums decided to play a trick on evolution and to quite deliberately change their form to something hardly recognisable as animal. They started to perfect their ability to "play the possum" in able to never to be bothered by anyone again. They failed miserably. It is widely known that the rodent called the possum, when finding itself in extreme danger, pretends it's dead. This way it expects the attacking (or just mildly curious) creature to loose interest and eventually go away. A similar strategy can often be seen in all kinds of movies about wars and criminals, but there it hardly ever works, because the attackers are always smart or perverse enough to empty their complete ammo-clip in the supposedly dead corpse. Possums, however, seem to get away with it [1] The possums I refer to were so lazy that they wanted to use this ability for a larger range of occasions, more accurately, for *every* occasion. Over the years they found a way to lie down on the ground more often, lying still, until they hardly ever moved at all. Due to gravity they became flatter. They became furrier and started to loose all features that could identify them as animals, such as their head, tail, pouch, and feet. Their need to breathe and feed was brought down to an absolute minimum. Today these creatures have found a home in the same home we occupy. Yet we never recognize them for the animals they are. Very inconspicuously they lie on our floors. In fact, we bring them into our homes ourselves! Unfortunately the animals can't defend themselves against that, and spend their whole life trying to avoid the consequences. Because we don't know they are alive, we tread on them all of the time. We actually like to do that, because they're all warm and soft. The possums, however, hate it. Imagine being stomped and trampled on all day long. This is even worse in households with lots of children running around all day, or fat people, or both. For this reason the animals try to crawl to the sides of the room. They have found a way to crawl using their whole body, in a similar way as snakes do, except they don't bend sideways but upward. They never get far. The humans occupying the house soon find out that they have moved by tripping over the folds they make in themselves, or by just noticing that they have quite inexplicably made a slight turn. Another reason for them to move should become quite clear when you've got two of them in one room. Due to a strange twist of probabilities, *if* there are two in one room, they are always of different sex. As it seems that most people choose to be blind and not (want to) notice, I will explain. Reproduction of these possums would have become very difficult, were it not that they found a very easy and pleasurable solution. They changed their body into one large reproductive organ [2]. To mate they merely have to touch each other. Therefore, if you've got two of them in one room, you will quickly notice that they have moved closer to each other, although you can't see the movement itself. If you let them go, they soon lie partly on each other. Realize what they're doing, and please don't spoil their fun! Now you understand why it is doubly so painful if you tread on them. This knowledge will also, I expect, give you a different perspective to the activity of vacuuming them. Although you take away much of their food, you also give it a feeling, let's say, much more pleasureful than a massage :). The next step in the reproduction is the actual birth. It takes place almost immediately after conception. The child, just like the adult, is not recognisable as an animal, and looks completely like something else. By absence of a pouch on the parents, the children crawl around until they finally find a very suitable pouch on our body. When we discover the children we call them belly button lint. Most people out of ignorance throw them away, but some people have a heart and let it grow, until it finally turns into a full grown parent, so that the owners have a new pet. These people are the same people who never vacuum their possum, the catholic fundamentalists of the possum world, we could say. In the third world there are large factories where people get paid (although not much) to nurture these possum children in their navels. The children turn into adults and are then sold to be pets in homes all over the world. I own two pets and I occasionally give them a nice rub down. They aren't allowed to climb up the walls, or on to each other too much, and I'm afraid I throw away the children, although I give them plenty of opportunity to grow in the distant corners of my room. [1] But *they* of course don't have the mob after them! [2] In the same way that the body is one large digestive organ, feeding on dust. %e *EOA* %t Quantum Leaping %n 2U82 %s How To Travel Without Moving %a Hendrik De Vloed (en4bmhd@bs47c.staffs.ac.uk) %d 19950329 %e Most of the research potential in the known Universe (and probably much of that of London, too) is heavily inclined towards finding ways to accomplish things faster. The efforts of the Sol III-based sand-derivate manufacturer Intel, to generate faster customer-feedback by producing a piece of really hot electrodynamically active sand, can be seen as a good example of this trend. This Si-lump produced just the wrong spark at the wrong time every 10,000 years or so (as extrapolated from the zero sparks they got in the week they tested one of them). In technologically developed areas, however, most of the fastness research is heavily centered around the swift transportation of matter through vast amounts of space. As in time Zandax the Five-and-a-Halfth of Maximegalon University, Hilbo Quenur, L'Loqstrup, Grabbol, Einstein, Stallux, or whatever the name of your local smartass may be, have been proved wrong, theories have been developed to encompass the energy barrier involving having hoards of photons travelling at nearly the same speed as you. The main problem with these particles is their attitude: whenever you feel like going a bit faster, they automatically get the tendency to speed up to retain a 3*10^8 m/s speed advantage over you. In this process, called "invariance of the light speed," they absorb kinetic energy from all nearby objects, including the traveller they try to outrun in the first place. Eventually, when you get really near their speed, they resort to disgustingly low tricks to maintain their goal, such as making time slow down for you and hooking extra mass (ballast) to your ship. Since every single attempt to re-educate these delinquons (as L'Loqstrup calls them) has failed, research has turned in the direction of finding different ways to mislead them. Three major viewpoints have emerged from the great minds in holiday travel, which will be described briefly: Hyperspace Travel ----------------- The basic principle behind this theory is to generate a huge light flash accompanied by a really great optic distortion in order to fool the photons ("warp their mind") into thinking you're not even near catching up with them. As optic effect technology improved (Sirius Song And Dance Systems(TM), Industrial Light And Magic(TM), Magrathea Mist(TM), etc.), maximum "warp speeds" have increased. The more confusion you cause, the more head start you can get, and the farther you are from the aforementioned influences of the enraged mob of photons in your wake. During the travel, all passed photons will equally try to slow you down, but as they can only be alerted by their kin of your arrival (they claim to be the sole carriers of information) they equally end up in your wake. Once you finally get to your destination, and "drop out of warp," the zillions of photons finally catch up, and produce a secondary light flash. Mind Travel ----------- Some races really can't be bothered to do a lot of research on this subject and have found a totally revolutionary approach on this subject. Unfortunately, the combined scientific community of the Known Universe disagrees, as their way of travelling involves taking various hallucinogen substances (Melange, Meringue, LSD, etc.) and dreaming they really are where they want to be. To quote the late Zandax The Five-and-a-halfth on his fatal opening speech of the Fifty-Sixth Annual Mindtravel Convention at Arrakis: "... with all you reality-dodging bunch of Freeloaders, no wonder this planet is one hot worthless maggot-infested sandpile!" Improbability Drive ------------------- Although this theory still is marked as "revolutionary," the principle is not much different from straight hyperspace travel. The improbability field is merely used as a confusion generating device, so that the photons begin to doubt whether you really were there, or somewhere else, and whether or not it really is worth the trouble trying to catch up with someone who might not even be outrunning them. Doing thus avoids the wake of photons behind you, thereby allowing virtually infinite speeds. The Improbability Drive has -- mainly immediately after its discovery -- been considered as the /nec plus ultra/ of travel, and many a respectable travel researcher has turned to manufacturing papier mache warp coils out of pure boredom. But soon after, the major disadvantages popped their heads up. As one traverses all points of the physical universe at the same instant of time, the timing for re-entry in normal space is rather difficult to calculate, and involves a large amount of divisions by zero (Sirius Cybernetics Corporation is alleged to have made a mega-Ningi contract with an unnamed sand manufacturer in the Western part of the Spiral Arm for the production of devices capable of performing these operations). Another disadvantage of Improbability travel resulted in the extinction of the only known remaining species of walking handkerchiefs, when a four- kiloton Sirius ImprobCruiser passed right through them on reentry. Several of these accidents have gotten the remaining researchers back to work on a different approach on this delicate subject. This time the efforts are no longer concentrated on the interactions with photons, but rather on the second travel theory. In this case, however, reality is not battled with chemical substances, but with itself. There appears to be a security peephole in physics, a bug in reality. This bug appears on the quantumphysical level. A young graduate student, the late brother of the late discoverer of the Infinite Improbability Generator, who had been bored after he cleaned the lab, started to examine the Heisenberg Principle: dp * dx > h He reasoned: If we could really narrow down the place where one is, the uncertainty on the momentum could become huge. And as it is an uncertainty, the speed involved can be any, from none to infinity. At first this idea may look like a bunch of dingo's kidneys and at least as impractical and dangerous as the Improbability Drive, but as the entire galactic research staff plunged into the subject, the huge paper waves came up with ideas to control the certainty of the place only in one direction, say the length. This will narrow down the velocity vector in the same direction, thus making a directional travel possible (always a handy feature) and thereby even outperforming the adirectional steering of Improb Drive. By measuring the length of a teaspoon really accurately, Grabbol was able to fling it straight forward, unfortunately into the skull of a passing cleaning lady. He was able to avoid criminal prosecution by calculating its speed from the impact depth, thereby removing the evidence according to the same theory. Further experiments revealed an unexpected effect: as the Heisenberg equation uses dp (uncertainty in momentum) instead of just velocity, sometimes the object just stays put and its mass increases exceedingly ("Elvis-effect"). Current experiments involve tossing livestock between (sometimes "tossing through" or "transforming into") planets. At the current research rate, this New Technology of Quantum Leaping should be available Real Soon Now. However, as failed experiments tend to use up researchers, the progress rate decreases. "Is Reality fighting back?", as Oolon Colluphid writes in his latest blockbuster, _God Really Screwed This One Up_. %e *EOA* %t Diddley-Squat %n 2U83 %s As Near As Close To Next To Nothing As If To Be Naught %a Alexander E Cutshall (alexc@xmission.com) %d 19950302 %x Absolute Zero %x Cheese %i Nada %i Zip %i Very Little %e The concept of an amount of items that are close to absolute zero, but a bit more friendlier was contemplated by the people of Earth. They said, "how can we indicate a amount like zero, but in a friendlier way." Two professors came up with an idea. "What if we create an equation that is as close to next to nothing as to be zero, give it a term, and then that can be a an amount that's like zero, but more friendlier?" So they came up with the equation: 1 D = --- C Where C is the amount of Cheese Dip consumed per capita, and D is the Diddley-Squat, named after the two professors, John Diddley and Fred Squat. The Institute for Extreme Cleverness gave them the greatly prized Award For Use of a Non-Constant Number in a Seemingly Useless Equation. Then they realized that the actual number of people eating Cheese Dip wasn't as big of a number as they originally thought. The Award for Use of a Non-Constant Number is a Seemingly Useless Equation was revoked, not that that was such a bad thing. So Diddley and Squat were never really famous yet, and their careers as scientists were as near as to next to nothing as to almost be nonexistent. Their trophy was used as a punch bowl for this really horrible party the members of the Board of People Who Choose Who Gets the Award For Use of a Non-Constant Number in a Seemingly Useless Equation, and the party was so boring that one of the members spiked the punch... onto the head of the Director for Awarding the Award For Use of a Non-Constant Number in a Seemingly Useless Equation and he was not pleased at all, and threw out the window the Award For Use of a Non-Constant Number in a Seemingly Useless Equation, and it shattered into a billion trillion little glass pieces. They said, "wow, that's Diddley-Squat." And there they were, looking weepingly at the little glass pieces on the sidewalk outside. So ended the careers of Diddley and Squat, and they gained a reputation of having both the luck of and the careers which amounted to as close to next to nothing as to be almost absolute zero, so that's what they are remembered for. %e *EOA* %t Sanity, The Problem Of %n 2U84 %s How To Remain Sane In The Universe We Inhabit %a James R. Friend (james@docnet.infolink.co.za) %d 19950320 %i Insanity %e The universe is a strange place. It is also a rather big place. It is, in fact, a big, strange place. A big strange place is exactly the wrong kind of environment to exist in if one would like to remain reasonably sane. This of course is the fundamental problem for most of the universes relatively more intelligent life-forms. There is, however, a solution. There are, in fact, three solutions. 1) Reduce the size of the universe (you then have a relatively smaller strange place and should be able to figure out the strangeness before insanity sets in). 2) Chuck out the stranger bits (you then have a big logical place and although the size would make it impossible to ever understand everything that happens there, one should at least be able to maintain a semblance of sanity while making the attempt). 3) Flush sanity down the loo. Note: Some people have suggested reducing both the size and the strangeness of the universe, thus eliminating both problems at once. And although this at first would seem the best way to remain sane, one should consider whether it is worth dying of boredom. So, now that we have established that there is absolutely no way to stop oneself going crazy in the universe which we inhabit, perhaps it is time to ask ourselves whether it is even worth trying. Perhaps instead of trying to keep our balance on the cliff edge of mental stability we should not only resign ourselves to the fact that we are going to fall but should in fact throw ourselves over the precipice, thus conserving a lot of energy. Energy, as you know, cannot be created or destroyed, it can only be wasted, and any attempt to retain sanity in this particular universe is definitely a waste of energy. There are also other advantages to being a complete loony tune: 1) You are allowed to do all kinds of incredibly fun things which sane people never get to do. People only stare at you until somebody explains that you are, in fact, insane. They then nod understandingly and say things like, "oh the poor thing, can nobody help him/her/it." 2) You are excused from the normal responsibilities of everyday social interaction as applied to sane people. You don't have to work, be polite, help old ladies across the road, or ever take a bath. 3) If you don't have anywhere to stay one will be provided for you. The rooms in these places are really hoopy because the walls are very soft and you can bounce around the inside in the most delightful way. Occasionally the management in these places will send somebody around to take you to have a bath, but generally if you growl convincingly at them they go away. The list goes on. So, to those of you losing your minds, don't let it bother you. In this universe insanity is a virtue. Note: Any descriptions of social norms and the treatment of the Reality Impaired in the above article is solely applicable to the planet Earth. The author accepts no responsibility for the validity of the above information (or the lack thereof) in other planetary systems. %e *EOA* %t CAT %n 2U85 %s Commercial Description %a Frank Reid (reid@indiana.edu) * Found in alt.humor.best-of-usenet (originally iu.classified) * by Roel van der Meulen (vdmeulen@strw.leidenuniv.nl) %d 19940927 %x Cats %x Cats And Dogs %x Feline MPD %x Antigravity, The Feline Butterology Theory %e The Mark I Charismatic Autonomous Terminator (CAT) system is a family of intelligent, stealthy, terminal-homing mouse-seeking missiles featuring multi-sensor targeting with dual night-vision devices, and neural-net architecture. The CAT's self-righting inertial platform allows launch from any attitude. Integrated multi-aspect attack profile with indefinite-loiter mode insure a wide lethality envelope. Upon target engagement, the CAT deploys four clusters of retractable submunitions in addition to the primary warhead, providing an enhanced radius of destruction. The CAT uses regular or exotic solid or liquid fuel and is equipped with a low-signature exhaust-obscuration system. Firmware and connectors compatible with any unit of the Mark I series guarantee unlimited expansion capability, making the CAT system a cost-effective countermeasure to the projected spectrum of rodent-threat scenarios well into the next century. The CAT is now available [1] from ACME Anti-Roadrunner Systems Division of McDonald Dynamics. See us at the Paris Air Show, Tom Clancy's next movie, or contact Frank Reid at 855-0711 (day) or 339-7305 (evenings; be patient) for immediate free delivery. [1] Cannot be shipped to Iraq. %e *EOA* %t Where News Articles Go Until They Reappear %n 6U7 %s Why Threads Never Die %a Nicole Aucoin (nicole@ariel.cs.yorku.ca) %d 19941019 %i Easter Island %i Stonehenge %i Grand Canyon %x Earth %e Have you ever wondered why every so often, a thread will reappear weeks after you thought it had died on a newsgroup? Well, wonder no more, enlightenment is here! This exciting expose will reveal all - no more secret destinations for any articles, their private lives revealed, all this and more (only 9.95 plus shipping and handling)! Those crafty articles do not mundanely sit in bottlenecks at slow sites, nor do they get garbled by faulty transmissions. Oh no, they have either been dnapped by the stone heads of Easter Island, corralled by the ring of Stonehenge, or vacationed in the Grand Canyon. You'd wondered what strange and mystical meaning the huge carvings of Easter Island were for hadn't you? They were the first tap created by ancient civilizations. They draw down passing news articles into their capacious craniums, ponder them for a while, then let them free to some obscure site. There the post continues on as if nothing had happened - it's replied to and revives a dead thread. Stonehenge is a particularly nasty piece of work for unwary articles - they get jammed up under those arches and take days, sometimes weeks to sort themselves out. But the favorite destination by far of delinquent news is the Grand Canyon. All those marvelously twisty passages all different, unlike the millions of identical newbie minds that they are destined to breeze through without making an impression. In the lovely Colorado River valley, there is no stress about being articulate, witty, in-depth (since they get this last for free while wizzing about) or grammatically perfect. So if you spot a particularly care-freely spelled article, it has most likely benefited from a spin through the Grand Canyon. So worry no longer about the fate of those missives that take flight from your keyboards - just imagine the fun they get up to while you stayed tied to the machine. Let them free to soar! %e *EOA* %t Shoe Civilisation %n 6U8 %s The Real Masters Of The Universe %a Stein Ingebrethsen (s.ingebrethsen@ic.ac.uk) %d 19950312 %i Massage By Feet %e Have you ever thought about who really rules the world? When you dejectedly turn away from the automatic cash dispenser, with no cash, but a rather ridiculed card that has been spat out followed by a cruel laugh, do you think that the bank manager has got to be a secret member of the junta that rules the world bank, which in turn rules several minor states, America, 3/4 of Africa and Mrs Major? Do you believe that MONEY rules the world? That we slave away to shift small wads of paper and metal around? They don't. The _Real_ masters of the galaxy are shoes. Due to constantly being manipulated into caring for these small creatures interminably inserting our feet into their wombs, taking them to see places, exercising them, massaging them and caring for them. They love it. They can't get enough, and if long enough passes without our caressing them, they act. Why else do you think your shoelaces untie themselves? It's just to get attention. If they've been neglected their revenge can be horrible. Have you ever tripped over seemingly nothing while walking along a perfectly flat stretch of pavement? It's your shoes cries for attention. Or what about when you come home about two oclock in the morning? Don't you hate stumbling over that shoe that you're sure you put away before leaving? Shoes really make the world go round. They invented money, consumerism, and, yes, even humans just for their own sake, so that someone would buy them, use them, and thereby giving them their daily massage. Didn't you know that humans' feet are the best implement of massage ever employed? The Japanese sussed it out, but of course the shoes did that first. So the next time you walk in the shops seeing rows upon rows of shoes, know that the meaning of life, universe and everything is really shoe cream, shoelaces, and a loving brush with a 40 minute walk afterwards. For the shoes that is. %e *EOA* %t Fourth Dimension, Creatures From The %n 2U86 %s How To Recognize A Creature From The Fourth Spatial Dimension %a Roel van der Meulen (vdmeulen@strw.leidenuniv.nl) %d 19950411 * Yet Another GAG Article %i 4D * %k Dimension %x Alternate Universes %e Although it may seem quite improbable, it may just be possible that, if only once in a lifetime, you'll be confronted with a creature from the fourth dimension. With a creature from the fourth dimension I don't mean a creature that can move freely in time or such [1], but a creature that normally lives in a universe with four spatial dimensions instead of three, all at right angles to each other. When you meet this creature you may at first not be aware that it *is* a creature from the fourth dimension. You may only be aware that you are witnessing things that are absolutely not normal and that cannot be explained by the physics we know today. In this article I will try and scetch how you can recognize that you are dealing with such a creature, what its appearence is and what advantages it has over us. For this purpose you should first have an idea of what we would look like in a two dimensional world. I'm sure most people have at one time or other read some things about two dimensional worlds [2], so I won't go into that (How convenient for me). We extrapolate these ideas to a higher dimension [3]. We look at our advantages over two dimensional beings and easily find out what advantages the four dimensional creatures have over us. Suddenly it appears in front of you, a three dimensional shape that changes appearance and size fast. When you try to communicate with it by talking, it constantly changes shape because it has to alternate between putting its ears and mouth in our dimension, just like we would turn our head sideways to hear from and talk in a planar universe. It would have one arm on the outside and one on what *we* call the inside. What its inside would be like is impossible to understand for us. It would have some 13 fingers, tentacle-like, that in our dimension would look like a hand with an alternating number of fingers. This argument made sense to me once, but I have quite forgotten why. It would be able to look at our insides and inside everything else, just like we can view a picture of, say, a cut of a cat's brain. If it would be able to talk in right angles to our three dimensions, its sound would seem to come from all around us. I could go on and on with this list, but it is my experience that it gets boring after a while. At least you've now got some clues to know the explanation to certain phenomena you might or might not once encounter. Now someone else try to speculate what it would be to meet a creature from a universe with three spatial dimensions, just like us, but with two temporal dimensions at right angles to each other. [1] Kurt Vonnegut, _Slaughterhouse 5_ [2] I have, in A.K. Dewdney's _The Planiverse_, but I got bored halfway. A famous other book is E.T. Abbot's _Flatland_ [3] See Rudy Rucker's _The Fourth Dimension_, which I unfortunately haven't read. %e *EOA* %t Hyneline, R. A. %n 2U87 %s A Writer To Look Out For %a Alex McLintock (alex@arcfan.demon.co.uk) %d 19950521 * Original version written for Dave Hodges' Guide in 1990 * apologies to the Late, Great, R A Heinlein. %e Randy Andy Hyneline is probably the galaxy's greatest journalist. Keep an eye out for his books in your local bookshop but remember to put it back in before closing time because they have boxes of lost eyeballs. Winner of the Roger Award, 13 years running, Hyneline came to fame under the Great MegaDodo Publishing House, writing for the under developed parts of the galaxy. He is best known for such great documentary books as: The Number of the Bugblatter Beast. Time Enough For Lunch. The Cat Who Walked Through Windows. Have No Space Suit - Will Travel 30 seconds. I Will Fear No Evil, Because I Am Wearing Mirrorshades. and that classic: Thursday. %e *EOA* %t Playbeing Centrefolds %n 2U88 %s Full Frontal Nude Pictures Of Some Of The Sexiest Babes In The Galaxy %a Alex McLintock (alex@arcfan.demon.co.uk) %d 19950521 * Original version written for Dave Hodges' Guide in 1990 %x X-Rated GIF Site, Astronomers Find %e X X X X X X X X X X X CENSORED X X X X X X X X X X X X X X THIS ARTICLE HAS BEEN DELETED BY THE MILITANT ARM OF FEMAILS AGAINST PORNOGRAPHY X X X X X X X X X X X CENSORED X X X X X X X X X X X X X X %e *EOA* %t Reciprocity Bugs %n 2U89 %s The Personal Pests Of Mungoglott 27 %a Ian Campbell (ianc@islandnet.com) %d 19950602 %i Bugs, Reciprocity %e On the planet MungoGlott 27, in the Gronteeonde star cluster, lives a race of humanoids who have conquered their environment while preserving their ancient traditions of coexistence. Throughout their lifespan the happy people of MungoGlott live in luxury surroundings, dust-proofed from the harsh particle clouds outside. They have lived like this for centuries, their socio-economic problems solved long ago. One remnant of their wild past remains: a willing acceptance of parasites and vermin in and on their otherwise well-kept bodies. Yup, infestation isn't just for poor people anymore! The Mungo harbour their little hangers-on with pride. Decorative beetles are considered fashion necessities among the social elite. Not just parasites, good friends. Because of the overwhelmingly good lifestyles these bugs enjoy (warmth, table scraps, good seats for Phantom), they have mutated into quite intelligent sentient beings. The average Mungo actually has a better relationship with his favorite tape worm than he does with his own parental units! The obvious advice for any hitchhiker would be to go to the Department of Bodily Habitation upon arrival and get a parasitic visitors visa. Mungoese cuisine is renowned far and wide and well worth spending a few days in someones beehive. %e *EOA* * * End of file: UREAL04.NEW * Share and Enjoy! *