Epilogue 2/0 - SPACE ALIENS HIDE MY DRUGS!!! _____________________________________________ *** BIENFAIT NUTLY NEWS SPECIAL *** ********************** *** KILL THE CHILDREN !!! *** ********************** Introduction By: A DANGEROUSLY CRAZED VIOLENT PSYCHO KILLER TO BE NAMED LATER It is with great fondness and trepidation that I recall the wonderful summer days spent on the ball diamonds of Austin, Texas, in the late 1970's. Behind the dugout, under the stands, sharing a quick toke with other members of Armadillo World HeadQuarters' jock-supporters--fans and players of the legendary PSYCHO KILLERS, widely recognized as the most dangerous-to-themselves opponents in the history of the Grand Game, no matter where or how it was played. Slapping David Byrne upside his Talking Head for Bogarting the Belushi and then realizing that his momentary lapse in proper drug-addict ettiquette was a result of his attention being rivetted to some terrifying incident of reality taking place out on the ball diamond. Seeing the outfielder nonchalantly digging his toe in the dirt at the edge of the infield as a conference took place on the pitcher's mound between the other members of the Austin Police Department ball team. Watching in horror as the outline of a small finger could be seen poking out from the dirt as the outfielder prodded his spiked toe in the dirt, and then watching it being covered again, as he unconsciously tapped it back down in the dirt. Knowing that you should have taken little Delbert's body to the river and washed it down, with Tex Thomas & the Dangling Wranglers singing, "I Am Washed In The Rum of the Lamb" softly in the background, according to the instructions Rocky Erickson had received from Mars through the fillings in his teeth after stepping out of the elevator on the 13th floor, only to find himself in a vast wasteland of the mind where fear and superstition coming from the Real (TM) floors of his brain structure would sometimes cause him to doubt the voices. Hearing C.J. Parker, The County Mountie, drunkenly singing the ending strains of the chorus of 'Armadillo (Are You Sure Jesus Done It This Way?)': "And they catch those fly-balls on the head. And they never steal second, they steal first instead, Cause they learned all those moves that they make, From Panama Red." I don't wish to end up boring you with the youthful reminesces of a doddering, senile old fart reliving the Glory Days in a time and place where mental instability was honored and valued, whether it was C.J. Parker singing about drug-induced mental instability of the Psycho Killers, or Kinky Friedmann singing the praises of organic mental disorder by hosting a Charles Whitman Memorial Reunion bash, with the Texas Jewboys playing their harps in the background... Where was I...? Oh yes, I don't wish to end up boring you, but I'm a doddering, senile old fart, so what the fuck can you expect, eh? The way this relates to CRYPTology is... At the end of MeatSpace lies...the Crypt! "Everybody want's to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die." "Nobody gets out of here alive." "I cooked Belushi's last spoon!" These are just a few of the song-titles which reflect the inherent understanding of the muse that the rotting MeatSpace carcasses of the CypherPunks will eventually turn to dust, but that the stench of their vile, sick and twisted, 'shunned by every decent citizen' ideas and philosophies will live on eternally in the biosemiotic evolution of analogue life-forms crystallizing into the digital bits and bytes which will exist forever in the CyberSpace home of virtual reality, the Eternity Server. It was a lack of the esoteric understanding held by the Circle of Eunuchs (AC/DC Rules!) Bienfait Nutly News reportwhores which led to DC (Direct Current) journalists to proclaim the "Death of the CypherPunks," not understanding that the Toad was not dead, but had merely turned into a Handsome Prince whose experiences in the bath houses of Sif Fiasco had led him to realize that Human Gus-Peter should be shared with all who wished to drink from the spigot of his knowledge, male *and* female, regardless of whether or not they were wearing panties. Where was I...? Oh, yes... The sudden appearance of Bubba Rom Dos at the celebration for the Pull-It,Sir Prize certain to be awarded for the, as yet, unwritten, "KILL THE CHILDREN!!!" Bienfait Nutly News Special, reminded those gathered of Bubba's infamous quote, "If murder is to have any meaning at all, you must kill your friends." After singing a few verses of Bang! Crosby, Deathly Still & Gnashing of Teeth's hit song, "If you can't kill the one you love...kill the one you're with." the reportwhores suddenly became stone-cold sober and, realizing that the Canadian Author is Stone-Cold Crazy (TM), instantly realized the true import of the Canadian AuthorTitty's efforts to drag the InfoWar being waged in CyberSpace down into MeatSpace (where they could kick the Author's sorry ass), by the confiscation of the physical tools which he used to mirror analogue life onto the digital plane, Electronically Forging ahead, past the historical boundaries of MeatSpace Identity, into the Multi-User Persona Paridigm where TruthMonger and [YourNameHere]@dev.null are free to live together in peace and discord... Excuse me. I had to pause for a breath... Anyway, Armed Thugs With Massive MeatSpace Weaponry (TM) have a deathly fear of being transmorgified into Mental Midgets by the UnComprehensible InConceptual Distributed Digital Artistry (TM) taking place in the parts of the brain used by the muse-- which go far beyond the part of the brain where their own elevator stops, and they can go no further, because taking the stairs isn't in their job description and would probably get them in trouble with the union. Accordingly, they strike out like primitive savages at that which they do not understand, using their heavy clubs to destroy the tools which digital muses use to spam the MeatSpace Reality of the Decent Folk (TM) with the '8 Words George Carlin Can't Say On The InterNet' : 1. Shit 2. Piss 3. Fuck 4. Cunt 5. Cocksucker 6. Motherfucker 7. Tits 8. Comstockery ~~~~ From: Wordsmith <wsmith@wordsmith.org> To: linguaphile@wordsmith.org Subject: A.Word.A.Day--comstockery Comstockery (KOM-stok-uh-ree, KUM-) noun Censorship of literature and other forms of expression and communication because of perceived immorality or obscenity. [After Anthony COMSTOCK.] WORD HISTORY: Bowdlerism, named after Dr. Thomas Bowdler (1754-1825), has been around longer than Comstockery, named for Anthony Comstock (1844-1915). All Bowdler did to enter the world of common nouns was to expurgate Shakespeare, the Bible, and Gibbon's History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. On the other hand, Comstock, the organizer and secretary of the New York Society for the Suppression of Vice, helped destroy 160 tons of literature and pictures that he deemed immoral. Comstockery, the word honoring his achievements, is first recorded in 1905 in a letter by George Bernard Shaw to the New York Times: "Comstockery is the world's standing Joke at the expense of the United States.... It confirms the deep-seated conviction of the Old World that America is a provincial place, a second rate country-town civilization after all.". "The best argument for upholding this electronic Comstockery can be summed up in a single world: zoning." Jeffrey Rosen, Can the government stop cyberporn?, The New Republic, 31 Mar 1997. ........................................................................... Send your comments about words to anu@wordsmith.org. To subscribe or unsubscribe A.Word.A.Day, send a message to wsmith@wordsmith.org with "Subject:" line as "subscribe <Your Name>" or "unsubscribe". Archives, FAQ, gift subscription form, and more at: http://www.wordsmith.org/awad/ ~~~~ Uuhhh...I remember where I 'was,' but I don't remember where I'm 'going'... Uuhhh....hhmm........... [End of Epilogue 2/0, I guess]