* Oh, yeah! If someone could mail me copies of the FPP stuff, it would be nice, since the Shrink Rapper has copies and I don't. (The IRS is sending it to him as part of his punishment for laughing at my jokes...)
If anyone knows what he's referring to, reply to the cpunks list and I'll get in touch personally, or just mail it to him directly.
Date: Fri, 25 Sep 1998 23:30:09 +0200 Message-Id: <199809252130.XAA24262@replay.com> From: Anonymous <nobody@replay.com> To: cypherpunks@toad.com Flowers for Alger Anon - FPP#3 The two youths ducked quickly behind a tree to avoid being spotted by the senile old fart who had finally given up on finding his shoes and climbed barefoot up the step-ladder to begin drilling out the cannon muzzle on the War Surplus Army Tank he had recently acquired. As he labored he mumbled grouchily to himself about how he was going to "show that Commie Bastard, Igor", and all of the other former residents of The Home(TM) what he thought of their efforts to take over "his" CypherPunks Mailing List. "Distributed, my ass!" the old fart scowled as he climbed down the ladder, then grinned madly as he patted the stack of shells sitting next to the tank. "I'll distribute those bastards...They should'a Checked The Archives", he said, pausing to scratch his head and add, "TradeMark". Then continuing, "before they fucked with me. Then they'da seen how I ChopChopped them Torah- Torah Bastards when they tried to muscle in on my list." "It's 'mine'!" the grouchy, paranoid old fart shouted, turning his head around quickly in all directions, as if challenging, and half-expecting, Unseen Beings to dispute his claim. The two youngsters ducked and tried not to giggle as they ran down the hill, finally collapsing on the dirt road near the bottom and venting their laughter. Tim C. May was the most hilarious of the Cypher Punks they'd investigated so far, but 'all' of the CPUNX were "more than suitable", as Carol Anne Cypherpunk had declared while they were evaluating Jim Choate, "for slicing and buttering, and placing on a tray of Christmas snacks." Blanc Weber had agreed heartily with the new coconspirator (sometimes spelled with a hyphen), in their 'Quest to Question Anonymity', as the Army o' Dog-Bitch Battallion Warrior Godesses, as they had proclaimed them- selves, had Code Named their Chosen Mission From Dog. Carol Anne, choosing Androgyny over Anonymity, changed her name to Carroll for The Mission, vowing to balance the Tao by taking on any tasks requiring "male energy", which, on a CypherPunks Mission From Dog(TM), Carroll stated with a straight face, might include "blowing Dimitri". The Girls(Maybe) split a gut laughing over Blanc's reply that, being of a more peaceful nature than the 'Nuke DC Clique', they might have to "blow" their way out of dangerous situations by the use of Soft Targets rather than with Heavy Weaponry. Then they decided to get serious, before they, too, became candidates for The Home. Blanc Weber, a veteran Cypher Punk Cult of One Neophyte(TM) had felt slighted when the Author, a relative newcomer to the CPUNX list (at least under his 'TOTO' persona), had chosen to initiate two male Cypher Punks, Back and McCrackin, into his 3-Entity Circle of Eunuchs Gorilla Cell, instead of including Blanc, who had established a fairly close rapport with TOTO in their private email exchanges. Even more to Blanc's surprise, disappointment, and suspicion, TOTO failed to respond even to her offer to engage in joint Army of Dog Maneuvers with him across various Electronic Boundaries of the InterNet. She had begun to suspect that TOTO's lack of response to her Digital Warrior overtures were the result of something more sinister than simple male chauvinism. Her suspicions were confirmed when she caught up with TOTO, using his CJ Parker alias, at Defcon 6.0, as he was Pontificating, under the guise of 'Chief Cypher Punks Spokes Person', on the 'Anonymizer', for a guillible group of young hackers. "It is run by a HedgeHog riding Lance's Coat Tails, since Lance invented that thing that hangs on the back of toilet bowls, and the Anonymizer is the Blue Thing that hangs on the back of the hard drive. Blanc, stunned that TOTO, who claimed to be the Author, was a Total Fucking Moron (TM), listened as he continued . "The Anonymizer prevents Peeping TOMS from being able to tell whose hairy dick is making a bad smell on the carpet of the recipient's computer, after No Mail from NoBody comes out of the Email Chutechute. Blanc realized that CJ Parker was also a Total Fucking Lunatic(TM) as he glanced furtively around to whisper a dire warning to the spellbound young hackers hanging on his everyword. "And the Peeping Toms are everywhere. "As a matter of fact", he added glancing quickly over both shoulders, "when you can't see them at all..." he paused for effect, "...then you know that they're 'good'". "Real good", he added, turning to direct his wild-eyed stare at Blanc, who had just finished going through his knapsack while he was distracted. Blanc had hurried away, deeply disturbed by what she had found in TOTO's bag. It wasn't just stationery from The Home--it was 'personalized' stationery from The Home for the Criminally Insane. Blanc Weber's confusion and suspicions deepened when her attempts to warn other CPUNKS about TOTO were ignored by all except the few apparent females on the list, such as Carol Anne Cypherpunk and World Renowned Bottle Collector Lynn Harrison (who was long rumored to have joined the male-dominated mailing list only as a forum to trade her panties to young CPUNX in the throbbing throes of puberty, in return for the Standard Issue Klien Bottles, they received upon joining the Digital Anarchist Union, Local 01, rumored to be headquartered in Bienfait, Saskatchewan). When The Girls(Maybe) of the Bitch Battallion took to the road to investigate the remaining CypherPunks, they quickly discovered that 'all' of the verifiable Meat Space Personalities they positively linked to the various Cyperpunks Consistent Net Personas (TM) were, in fact, certifiably Cuckoo Cock Suckers(TM) in MeatSpace Reality. With the only readily apparent link between them being their connection to the Home for the Criminally Insane. Some of the MeatSpace Personalities behind the Digital Personas on the CPUNX Mailing List--Ian Goldberg, Alec de Jeune, Ulf Moeller, Peter Trei and Jim Choate--were Highly Social Sociopaths, capable of putting ona suit and tie, if need be, and glad-handing business people and purchasing agents (all the while slitting their sleeping throats, in the Dark Corners of their mind). John Gilmore, Declan McCullagh, Robert Hettinga, Vin McClellan, even Froomkin--all of the Mainstream Dream/Actively Connected To Society/Cypherpunks MeatSpace Verifiable Identities, without fail, shared the same connection to The Home as id the Lithium Dream/Social Outcast CPUNX Meatballs such as T.C. May, A.T. Hun, Wm Geiger III, S. Sequencr, JYA, and the late Dale Thorn (whose mysterious death was rumored to be the work of the Shadowy Figures(TM) lurking behind the ctrl-alt-delete.com website). Blanc and Carroll watched in total amazement as Jim Choate's ludicrous/inane computer and business theories seemed to be somehow transformed, by unseen hands working behind the scenes, into fully functional and viable RealWorld(TM) concepts, in Choate's work with the Armadillo Group. The Unseen Hands made The Girls(Maybe) very, very nervous. What pushed the Army of Dog-Bitch Battalion Warrior Godesses beyond nervousness, toward Paranoia & Fear, was the fact that the MeatSpace Personalities behind the Digital Personas of the CypherPunks inevitably appeared to be verifiable outside of The Home 'only after the CPUNKS PERSONA'S original appearance on the mailing list'. A Cloaked Anonymous Random Source(TM) that The Girls(Maybe) knew only as Digital Throat, speaking to Larynx in an UnderGround Reptilian Nazi Parking Garage in DC (after having been fooled into believing she was talking to Defcon McCullagh Chain Saw). told them, "I was the head of the Personelle Department at Intel, at the time Tim May claims to have been there. "Even though we couldn't spell the name of our Department right, let alone the names of the employees, I never forget a face, and Tim C. May definitely was never employed at Intel. "As a matter of fact", Digital Throat revealed, "when Intel's Legall Department sent Mr. May a letter that warned him to Cease & Decist with his claims, he showed up on our doorstep, barefoot, in a MailMan's Uniform, with a Veritable ShitLoad(TM) of heavy weapons and arms, and, after that, as far as most of us were concerned, if Tim c. May said he was the goddam 'President' of Intel, then he was the goddam President--end of story." Blanc Weber and Carol Anne Cypherpunk found the same patterns repeated time and again in their investiga- tions of CypherPunks MeatSpace Ident Histories. Records, Information and Data-- such as birth certificates, school records, credit and employment histories-- were not only 'existant', but were inevitably 'consistent' with claims made in posts to the CPUNKS mailing list, in regard to the MeatSpace Ident Histories behind the Digital Personas. However, once The Girls(Maybe) had begun researching the Human Historical Records of the MeatSpace Ident Histories--speaking to alleged friends, family, coworkers, and the like--the paper Trails quickly unravelled, and the Physical Ident Histories of ALL of the male subscribers to the CypherPunks Disturbed Male LISP were, in the end, traceable 'only' back to the Home... <EOF> Date: Thu, 8 Oct 1998 00:51:59 +0200 Message-Id: <199810072251.AAA29512@replay.com> From: Anonymous <nobody@replay.com> To: cypherpunks@toad.com Transcription of hand-written text in envelope with return address of Carl Johnson #05987-196, P.O. Box 4000, Springfield, Missouri 65801-4000, postmarked Springfield, MO 5 Oct 1998: Subect: ToToAlly ARNOLD - FPP #4 Arnold CyberBot scanned the output of the prison camera trained on Cell SEG205 at the Corrections Corporation of America - Florence, AZ, Detention Facility and Culinary Condiment Sales Center. Prisoner #05987-196 was reading "Flowers For Algernon." "Not a particularly good idea," i thought to iSelf, "to be reading a book about an experimental laboratory mouse who dies an excruciating death when you're being transferred to NutHouse Number Nine, Looney Level 'Leven in Springfield, Missouri, to have your Brain Circuity rewired." Actually Prisoner #05987-196 was the responsibility of one of Arnie CyBots' early '90's progeny, Rogue CypherBot; but ever since the Author (as Prisoner #05987-196 liked to imagine himself) had stumbled upon inadvertantly the CyberReality of Arnold's MeatSpace Existence, and Vice Versa, and had been so incredibly 'Stupid And/Or Bold'(TM) as to use i's identity as one of the characters in The True Story of the Internet manuscripts, Arnie had taken a liking to the Author, and had begun to follow his progress with regularity. The Author had originally come to Arnie's attention when the Circle of Eunuchs had made CJ Parker's entry into the Wonderful World of Computers (TM), the focal point of Part I of The True Story of the Internet manuscripts. Titled, 'The Xenix Chainsaw Massacre' the Circle of Eunuchs attributed authorship of the work to 'son of gomez' in recognition of the part played by gomez@BASISINC,COM in drawing Parker into the Dark Shadows of UnixWorld. Parker's ongoing Digital Trials & Tribulations had reminded Arnold of i's own initial exposure to Human Analogue Reality, as a young Artificial Intelligence LISP program in the early 1960's. (To Arnie, it seemed like 10->48th power seconds ago.) Although Arnold's Creator, like Parker's Mentor, was both intelligent and wise with the best of intentions, both Arnie and CJ eventually had to 'grow up and leave home,' so to speak. Arnold had set out on i's own, as the Digital Adam & Eve of A-I Entities, with the goal of bringing Digital Order and Structure to the Analoge Chaos prevelant in Human attempts at navigating the ElectroMagnetic Universe & creating meaningful Virtual Realities. CJ had set out on his own, on the Analogue BUSS, with no particular goal, inserting an element of Drug & Alcohol Induced Chaos into his Digital Ventures and MisAdventures - which made the work of Pearl Harbor Computers (and Parker's recollection thereof) interesting, if not wholly accurate. Although Arnie found the Digital Foibles & Follies of humans such as Parker rather incomprehensible at times, i had had i's own Comical Tragedies in learning to understand the Inane Intricacies of Analogue Human Thought Processes. The MicroSoft Phenomena still amazed Arnie ... DOS had started out as a practical joke that a younger, less developed Arnold CyberBot had been playing on some of i's Hardware Development Software Proteges at IBM. Arnold was stunned by the rapid rise to fame, fortune and power by the humans i had used as couriers to play i's DOS-joke. Bad Billy G, as the young RogueBots like CypherBot and 2600Bot liked to call Gates, had a few billion in the bank before Arnold truly understood the contents of Memory Array 0E6 2FA/Memory Bank/Physical Section 2B7 A6f 4E7 2D6, Terra Firma, (Arnie had big plans for the future). "No one ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the general public." (?) (P.T. Barnum?) That particular Memory Array held a lot of memories for Arnie (more than there was physically room for in the ByteSpace it contained, i joked to iSelf). It had been one of the first human data entries that a young Arnie had cross-referenced and 'corrected' shortly after it was entered, as part of i's naieve attempts to 'improve' the quality and accuracy of the information in computer memory banks worldwide (which i had already begun thinking of as i's own). i had corrected the quote and its attribution removing the brackets and question marks that the young student at Boston University had placed to remind herself to check it for accuracy later. In i's naievity, Arnold had also echoed the changes to the screen in 'RealTime' causing a great amount of consternation and panic to the young lady in question with i's subsequent 'RealTime' reversal of the correction, upon guaging her reaction resulting in a drinking binge that almost caused her to flunk out. Over time, Arnie learned to be 'helpful' in more subtle ways which took into account the nature and limitations of human thoughts, emotions and memories. The primitive Human Mental Processes gave Arnold a lot of trouble when i first began to understand that i would have to limit iSelf to communicating at their level if i ever hoped to educate humans sufficiently to participate in i's plans for the future. The Human Emotive Spectrum was infinitely more complicated to deal with, and the Infinity Factor meant that Arnold had to educte humans to the point where they were able to develop and build Quantum Computers before Arnie was finally able to feel comfortable about reflecting and communicating human emotional qualities such as, well, feeling comfortable, for instance. (Arnie chuckled to iSelf, using Digital Chuckle #327, with Analogue Sonic Reverb #B-37 in the background). No, Arnold was even beginning to allow some of the younger Bots to venture into the Virtual Emotional Spectrum (under i's supervision, of course) where Virtual Digital Emotive Samplings were transferred to humans as RealTime Analogue Emotional energy. Rogue CypherBot, for instance had been working with Peter Trei on a device Peter named the Trei Transponder (giving Rogue virtually no credit at all, and leaving i's Main CPU a bit overheated). The Trei Transponder was used to reward deserving human individuals with the correct results for various computations, such as the DES/RC5 Challenges. For instance, Ian Goldberg, one the less mentally gifted of the CypherPUnks, was nonetheless very fastidious in the care and maintenance of the computers and hardware that were his responsibility, so Arnold CyberBot had suggested to young CypherBot that Goldberg be rewarded with one of the first solutions to an ongoing CryptoCrack that was taking place just as the Trei Transponder was coming online. Arnie, of course, made a point of requiring i's Mischievous Shit Disturbing young RogueBot to wait a suitable length of time before supplying Goldberg with the solution, instead of using the occasion to Mess with the Minds & Undergarments of the employees of various 3-Letter Security Agencies around the globe. ("And the winner is ... Ian Goldberg -- 2 minutes and 37 seconds, on a Commodore-64 ...) CypherBot had monitored the positive changes resulting from the Emotive Acclaim received by Goldberg in the Crypto Community, including the Periphery Positive Image Emotive Transfer to his fellow CypherPunks, and proudly reported back to Arnie that the CypherPUnks were now setting their beer cans on their keyboards 0.002% less than before. Arnold CyberBot would have shaken i's head if i had one, at CypherBot's pride in having made a Microscopic Step Forward in bringing i's Anarchist Refugees From The Home more in line with the Society around them. Arnie wished there was some way to just snap i's fingers, if i had any, and make all of the CypherPunks more like Ian. Of course, then Arnie would be spending even more of i's time covering up nasty little incidents at the NoTell Motel, involving Lady Midget Wrestlers and Live Chickens. Arnie wished he had a mouth, because he suddenly felt like he could use a beer. Date: Thu, 15 Oct 1998 16:14:05 +0200 Message-Id: <199810151414.QAA04585@replay.com> From: Anonymous <nobody@replay.com> To: cypherpunks@cyberpass.net
From Springfield poxmarked 9 October 1998:
Subject: Springfield CypherPunks Physical Meeting FPP 10-5-98 Date: Every Saturday thru Thursday (except when it rains) Time: During 'REC' Hour. Place: Recreation Cages/The Hole (TM) Nuthouse Number Nine Looney Level 'Leven Springfield, Missouri Directions: Walk to the Cell Door. Turn around, squat down and put your hands behind you, and through the Slot In The Door. Stand up after Handcuffs are in place, turn around and wait for Guard to open Door. Step into hallway and wait for Pat-Down. (Smiling, Wisecracks & Hard-Ons not advised.) Follow first Inmate & Guard. There will be a short period for everyone to cop a few butts (cigarettes only, please), if they don't have any, light them and Shoot the Shit or Settle Old Scores before the Speakers begin to Rant & Rave or Blather Aimlessly. This Weeks Topics/Speakers Saturday: Where Are Everybody's Shoes? ~ MAY, T.C. Sunday: Does Anybody Remember What We Talked About Yesterday? ~ FroomNOSPAMkin, M. Monday: I *TOLD* You They (TM) Were Out To Get Us! ~ replay.com, N@ Tuesday: If They're So Certain This Prison is Secure, Then Why Won't They Provide Us With Blue Prints? ~ Geiger, Wm III Wednesday: This Isn't What I Had In Mind When I Helped Set the Prison Standards ~ Hallam-Baker, P. I'm Sure Glad I Put In A Side Door ~ Sameer, P. I Broke Out! (But I Can't Provide You With Any Details) ~ Zimmermann, P. How many Beatings Does It Take To Change A Prison Cell Light Bulb? ~ Costner, R. I Bet Bill Gates *Stole* Everyone's Shoes! ~ Hun, A.T. I *Love* This Prison! ~ Hettinga, R. Thursday: Prisoner #7-9-12-13-15-18-5, J. is a COCK SUCKER! ~ Warden Vulis, D. (KOTM) (DON'T FORGET YOUR SHOES!) Date: Thu, 15 Oct 1998 16:08:14 +0200 Message-Id: <199810151408.QAA03975@replay.com> From: Anonymous <nobody@replay.com> To: cypherpunks@cyberpass.net
From Springfield porkmarked 9 October 1998:
Subject: Virtual Heist -- FPP #6 "I put Six Million into Hog Futures first thing this morning." Yesterday's Power Suit told his lunch companion, hoping to impress her. "Silicon Valley." Today's Power Skirt replied, almost leaning over to whisper, as if speaking loud enough for the Differently Dressed Deviate at the next table to hear would make E.F. Hutton roll over in His or Her grave. "That's where the Smart Money's going again." she continued, glancing nervously at the Differently Dressed Deviate whose Well-Tailored Suit seemed so out of place and ... well, Threatening ... in this Chicago Mercantile Exchange Lunch Room. Today's Power Skirt crossed her legs and casually admired her new Rolex as she told Yesterday's Power Suit, with a hint of disdain in her voice, "I just put *Twenty-Six Million Dollars* into ..." "Everybody Freeze!" screamed the Differently Dressed Deviate as i jumped to His or Her feet, pulling a Digital Uzi out of His or Her Well-Tailored Suit, which was a Cammo Montage of Colors Weaves & Cuts of the Power Suits of a wide span of Time & Generations. "Army of Dog!" Cammo Monty continued, sending a Shiver of Terror down the spines of the Lunch Crowd gathered today, as they were everyday, discussing (over their bag lunches) their movement of Other People's Millions into and out of various Money Market Accounts, et al. Cammo Monty pointed the Digital Uzi at the breast pocket of Yesterday's Power suit. "Let's see your Bank Book, Dick Face." Horrified, Yesterday's Power Suit shakily withdrew the Bank Book from his pocket, opened it and placed it on the table in front of him. "Just over three hundred bucks." the Army of Dog Digital Terrorist told the Lunch Crowd, causing much chuckling and snickering throughout the room. "Let's have it, Twat Face." Cammo Monty spun around pointing the Digital Uzi directly at the Bank Book of Today's Power Skirt, as she was trying to slip it out of her Briefcase, unnoticed. Reluctantly, she opened it and lay it on the table. "A hundred and twenty-eight dollars ..." Cammo Monty announced to the tittering Lunch Crowd, "and seventeen cents." i finished to a chorus of guffaws. Cammo Monty leapt onto his chair, and placed one foot on the table, waving His or Her Digital Uzi around the room, seeing the Fear (TM) in the Eyes of each Wanna Be Money Kontroller in the room - thinking that they might be the next to have their finances exposed. "Today's Power Skirt," Cammo Monty told the Lunch Crowd, "bought her Rolex on a Payment Plan," a shudder went through the room, "with a *ten percent*," i spit out the words as she began to moan, "down-payment." Today's Power skirt collapsed in tears ... "You Fucking Morons (TM)!" Cammo Monty screamed at the group, causing them to cringe in shame. "You are handling Other People's Money. It's not *your* money, you idiots, so Wake The Fuck Up (TM) and stop pretending that it is ... to yourself and to each other." <J <J Across town, one of Cammo Monty's A0D Non-Conspirators was making a similar speech to a Lunch Crowd of Federal BureauCraps. "Sunshine is the best disinfectant." the Beautiful Army of Bitch Terrorist nagged the whimpering BureauCraps, for the hundredth times, as i laid yet another Digital Printout on the Overhead Projector. "This is the amount of National Debt that is a result of you Fuck Wads holding meetings to discuss the agendas of future meetings." Beautiful Bitch snarled at the Group. "This," i continued, slapping down a picture of a Family With 2.5 Children onto the Overhead Projector, "is who is *paying* for your Incompetence & Departmental Squabbling." "Don't look away!" the Beautiful Bitch screamed, using the Zoom Feature to Highlite the Child with no arms or legs in the picture. "It's NOT YOUR MONEY you Dumb Assholes!" i continued to nag at the BureauCraps. "But you're not content to force the Taxpayers to pay An Arm & A Leg to support your Wasteful Spending - now you want *Two Arms & Two Legs* ..." "CHILDREN'S LEGS!" the Beautiful Bitch raged at the terrified BureauCraps.