Live At The CypherMore East - THEM...LIVE! - SAHMD!!! _____________________________________________________ Actually, the movie, produced in 1988, and released just in time to throw the Author into a hysterical state of Termial Paranoia, was called, "They Live, and still is. (called that, I mean). [EditWhore's Node: The reason the Author never bothers to go back and correct his spelling, syntax (whatever that is) and miscarriage-returns of linguistic justice, is that her mentor, who was as equally good a pitcher as she was a catcher, told her, "Never rewrite, the reader might be gaining on you."] It was a dark and normal night... Until the Author booted up SCO Xenix at 4 a.m. in a sleazy little motel room in ButtFuck, North Dakota. Then, as the Daemons, Zombies, Orphan Zombies and the dreaded Cron were released to wreak their havoc in ToshibaWorld, in the heart of the Author's 5200C portable computer, LadyLuck, not having a date for the evening, intervened to provide mitigating circumstances which would eventually become evidence in the Court Of Public Opinion as to the mitigating circumstances which needed to be considered before sentencing the Author to a lifetime of Hard Labor, trying to give birth to a new perceptive world-view paridigm in which WeTheSheeple felt perfectly comfortable returning a judgement of, "Guilty, by reason of insanity." (As well as a guilty verdict on the misdemeanor charge of, "I don't care if the people from the Justice Department *are* reaming you a new cornhole on my living room floor, I don't want you using that kind of language in front of my children.") For the Author, as his (or her...or their) mind began to break under the strain of trying to hold back the Forces of Evil that escaped from Bell Laboratories, hidden in the carry-on baggage of the Unix Operating System, the only hope of sanity seemed to lie in turning on the BoobTube (even though they visually bleep out the naked boobs on TV in North Dakota), and trying to defend HimOrHer self with the technological opiate of the asses...Gilligan's Island. It was not to be... Instead, despite the fact that TV goes off the air around 10 p.m. in the smaller northern states, the Author found himself finding himself foundering in a flow of Taoist synchronicity which goes far beyond the temporal concerns of everyday life, resulting in him living a schizophrenic existence, torn between Arizona and Saskatchewan, neither of which adheres to the Daylight Saving Time standard that decent, God-fearing Americans and Canadians hold sacred, whereupon the movie, "They Live" sprung on to the Midget Silver Screen sitting atop a faded yellow table with cigarette burns around the edges, completely out of visual harmony with the vile-green colored rug with a multitude of cigarette burns dotting its nearly threadbare surface. The Author found HimOrHerSelf battling the Mutant Monsters created by 'our engineers' talking to 'their engineers' (without ever managing to discover why your hard drive only crashes just before your job-performance review), as well as simultaneously drinking in the sights and sounds of a movie showing on a TV set which had not yet been plugged in--a movie in which a pair of "men who love men, every now and then" [WAS: Male Bonding In America - I Think Some People Are Going Just A Little Too Far] found themselves, on a dark and stormy night [(c) Snoopy], discovering a box of dark glasses which enabled them to see the scum- sucking aliens living in humanity's midst, without our knowledge. The Author, for the first time realizing the dire warning hidden in ZZ Top's classic musical offering, 'Cheap Sun Glasses,' decided that, given the fact that the theme of his last music album, "Please! Stop Me Before I Sing Again," had been embraced by the music-loving public to such a degree that he was hounded out of the industry, SheOrHe's only realistic course of action, in order to warn others about the frightening dangers to be found lurking within the heart of the Unix Operating System, was to use the Medium to proclaim the Message (even though, according to Marshal McClueHandLuke, they are identical twins, although in a microcosm-macrocosm sort of way, like Danny DeVito and Arnold Schwartzenager). Thus was born, "The Xenix Chainsaw Massacre - The True Story Of The InterNet - Part I." The rest is history... Well, not *all* of it is history, since we are currently writing some of it, now...which you are reading...now. And the rEvolution is NOW!, too, so... Lying Awake In Bed At 4 a.m. Burning Question #38679: "Was the <Pg Up> key invented by a sorry, drunken asshole who could never keep track of the point he was trying to make?" Wait here, I'll be back... <Pg Up> <Pg Up> <Pg Up> <Pg Down> <Pg Down> <Enter> "Shit!" <BackSpace> <BackSpace> <BackSpace> "Fuck! Godamnn it!" 'o' <Enter> <Pg Down> OK, like I was saying... MultiMedia... The Author, in 1989, had discovered and explored the first, true VirtualRealityMultiMediaExperience, in which HeOrShe could no longer distinguish between the Medium, the Message, the Meaning, the MeanderingMind, or the voices inside her head which told her that the Messages From Mars coming through the fillings in her teeth were FUD, disseminated by an insurance sales activist with a hidden agenda. Worried about the fact that some egoistical, elitist fuckwad might, at some point in the future, try to claim credit for the Author's discovery of MultiMedia, HeOrShe set Stanley's WayBack Machine to a point which corresponded to the exact Time-Space-Mind equivalent of the Nadir Point between alpha and omega, and could distinctly hear Tim C. May <tcmay@got.net> hollering, "I'm going to write about MultiMedia in the CypherPunks archives on the first day the list exists, and you will *never* get credit for the concept." The Author, realizing that the preceeding makes little sense, suddenly realized that all HeOrShe really wanted to point out in this chapter is that, despite the fact that it is a B-grade movie in which Meg Foster never shows her tits, the movie 'They Live' speaks a Truth which needs to be understood by any individual who professes an interest in journeying beyond an imaginary world-view in which he believes that buying the Jeep seen sitting on top of the mountain peak will really result in him getting to fuck the living shit out of the large-breasted blonde bombshell lying across the hood of the vehicle. (Or, alternatively, her thinking that purchasing New Lemon Joy Dish Detergent will really lead to her lifemate doing his share of the dishes, and becoming more romantic, instead of just humping her and then rolling over and going to sleep.) ONE-TIME OFFER!!! [NOT TO BE REPEATED IN THE FUTURE] Any 'True Story of the InterNet' reader who undertakes to watch, and believe the message of, 'They Live', is hereby Officially Absolved of any guilt they may feel in the future, over automatically deleting any post sent to the CypherPunks Disturbed Male LISP by the Author, despite any uneasy feeling they may have that HeOrShe, in spite of the obvious lunacy inherent the MeatSpace Manifestation of the maunuscripts, is truly from the GovernmentHomeForTheCriminallyInsane, and is here to Help (TM) them...