From: gharlane@ccshp1.ccs.csus.edu (Gharlane of Eddore)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.mike-jittlov
Followup-To: alt.dev.null
Subject: TUBES, was: Re: Talk: Who does this art?? I do!
Date: 1 Aug 1995 21:14:00 GMT
Organization: Evil Beings from Planet Eddore, Inc.
Message-ID: <3vm5eo$rrp@news.csus.edu>
References: <3q37sf$nkp@miso.wwa.com> <3qe003$nar@miso.wwa.com>
<3qg5c9$qb2@miso.wwa.com>
In <3qg5c9$qb2@miso.wwa.com>
jittlov@erehwon.caltech.edu (Mike Jittlov) writes:
<< A whoooooooolllle bunchastuff..... >>
Anyway, not to stay on the subject or anything, references a couple of
weeks ago to the Strange Affair Of The Mailing Tube elicited e-mail
requests for explication and explanation..... and I've finally had
a moment to cruise superficially through The Archives, and find three
or four of the major entries concerning at least the Beginning of
the Affair.
Herewith, 700 lines of A.F.M-J history:
---------------------------------------------------------------------
From: jittlov@gumby.cs.caltech.edu (Mike Jittlov)
Subject: Poster Fun & Games
Date: 27 Nov 1992 09:56:23 GMT
Summary: What I did on my Thanksgiving
Keywords: Poster, wrapping, unwrapping
I KNOW that I told you to send a STRONG mailing tube for your $25
Official Kelly Freas "Wizard of Speed and Time" poster. But this...
It looks like one of you, out there beyond the monitor, got _really_
_serious_ about outwitting the US Mail-Sorter & Field-Goal Cannon.
This poster tube is wrapped very, _very_ thoroughly.
...at least, I _think_ there's a tube in there..
...Y'know, I really find it difficult to adequately express my
appreciation for this industrial-strength swaddling work.. It
continues to provide many hours of amusement, which I would
otherwise waste thawing out a Budget Gourmet Salami Supreme..
...I was just about to post a request, asking what layer down
the $25 check might be (IMHO currently earned many times over).
But I've reached poster-tube surface, and found a name...
"Gharlane"
Hours gallop by like the Continental Drift...the Constellations
shift...Monopoly players are finishing a game somewhere...
WOW, I _finally_got one of the end caps off.
...And inside... why...it's another... poster tube.
BTW, my condolences to whoever receives a (wrapped) Holiday gift
from this sender - may he/she have the fingers of a karate sensei.
<-----#@*&!!@!----->
...My clocks have long since stopped ticking.
The last last tube is opened.
I am tilting it.
And shaking it. . /\/\/\/\.^.^.. .. .
I am gingerly extending a broom-handle into its dark confines....
My goodness.
It's empty.
What an amusing surprise...
Oh hey -- the mail just came... With a check. From Mr. Gharlane.
<> Get those unwrapping talons ready, Eddorean...
-- Mr. Wizard ;D
__________________________________________ ___._`.*.'_._ ________
Mike Jittlov - Wizard, etc . . + * .o o.* `.`. +.
902 Maltman, LA, CA 90026-2714 ' * . ' ' |\^/| `. * . *
(213) No-Human (noon, to moon) (: May All Your \V/ Good Dreams
<& alt.fan.mike-jittlov> and Fine Wishes /_\ Come True:)
=============================================== _/ \_ ===========
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: gharlane@nextnet.csus.edu (Gharlane of Eddore)
Subject: The Thing In The Tube
Summary: Product Report -- triple-A value, yes indeedy!
Keywords: green. bright green. large eyes. squidlike handling palps.
Date: 10 Dec 92 01:08:12 GMT
Organization: Very Danged Little
On the subject of mailing tubes........
Subsequent to Mike's somewhat negative and querulous comments about
what he implied might have been overzealousness on my part, in terms
of the way I wrapped the thing in the first place.......
.....I'd been waiting to see if he'd bother to send it back to me,
and if so, whether he'd pack in an extra six pounds of lead and
ship it postage-due or something.....
Well, it turns out the man is rather more subtle, devious, and
perverted than even WE had given him credit for; herewith, my
report on What I Got In The Mail:
=======================================================================
Ah. The day finally came; my magnificent, nested, dual armor-plated
mailing tube, lined with both arenak and inoson, had returned.
It glowed a bit, as it lay there in the P.O. Box, emitting a
luminescent refulgence that elicited a secondary fluorescence from
the mailbox's interior paint. I noticed the P.O. box's outside paint
was peeling and smoking a bit, in spots, and my mind's eye flashed to
the Ark of the Covenant, in the ship's hold, burning its shipping
crate from the inside.
As I pulled it out, the unearthly emerald light spread throughout the
post office. Everything shifted toward the green. Things began to
move in stop-motion pixilation; a young girl on the outside steps could
be seen, arms extended to her sides, swooping in circles above the
pavement. Grown men, executives by their clothing, began riding around
on their briefcases. Strips of stamps began to unwind from the
dispensing machines and dance in formation on the floor.
I hurried to my car, hiding the mailing tube under my jacket. I
noticed the jacket had turned green, and the upholstery and paint job
on the car followed suit within a block or two. Stop signs turned
kelly green as I passed, and the mercury-vapor streetlamps slid their
output from the UV/blue end of the visible spectrum to a longer
wavelength. It was like being magically transported to Ireland.
Then a quick dive into the living room, carefully locking the door
behind me. (Outside the living room drapes, the flare of green light
from my now-green VW was fading; I hoped it wouldn't attract too much
attention from the neighbors.)
First a quick slitting of the light-weight nylon filament tape holding
the end caps on. Okay. They came off easily enough, after I weighted
one end of the mailing tube with the east end of the couch and brought
in the block and tackle I use to pull my VW out of snowbanks.... Hmm.
Some kind of mysterious tendril, apparently fixed to the inside of the
cap, retreating into the mailing tube....... I could have sworn I heard
a whimpering noise. Hmm.
Well, the inside mailing tube was next. I threw a bight around it,
clove-hitched, and re-attached to the block and tackle. Hmm.
Insufficient mechanical advantage. The couch was moving, too. Hmm.
Pulling out my trusty Swiss Army Knife, I carved a patch out of the
living room rug, exposing the bare concrete beneath. An hour or
so with a two-horse drill, a masonry bit, and some quick-setting epoxy
concrete, and I had tiedown rings mounted in the slab. Using these
anchor points, and a winch I dismounted from my neighbor's WWII Jeep,
I was able to extract the inside tube from the outer tube.
The dull, booming "THOMP!" sound echoed hollowly as the interior
tube pulled free. Ah - HAH.... It hadn't been a hallucination. There
*was* something adhering to the inside tube, and it looked for all
the world like part of one of the subterranean creatures from "TREMORS."
I might have known that Mike would have pets from all kinds of neat
movies. I looked into the end of the outer tube, and could see nothing
...but far down in the echoing hollowness, something was making quiet
whimpering noises, for all the world as though I'd sprained something's
handling palps. THEN... just for a second.... an eye blinked open.
I was momentarily paralyzed by the sight of a luminous green eye that
must have been three inches in diameter. Something whipped out of the
tube, barely missing my face, grabbed the end cap, and *SNAP*ped it back
into place. Well, I'd be that way too, if someone had just used a Jeep
winch to jack open MY front door. ....Hmmm.
Well, on to the interior tube. Nicely sealed. I unwrapped the layer
of clear plastic tape, carefully preserving the sections with clear
fingerprints for a friend of mine at the local FBI office. Next,
the layer of black fabric tape, apparently a NASA experiement in super
adhesives. This tape may also have contained metallic filaments of
"memory metal," since it attempted to wrap itself around both my wrist
and my neck, at one point forcibly reminding me of the coat hangers
in Avram Davidson's "OR ALL THE SEA WITH OYSTERS." Finally wrestling
the tape into a modicum of subservience, I allowed it to coil around
a convenient schnauzer, whose attitude toward cats has never been
commendable. The tape left through the cat door, taking the schnauzer
with it. The next layer.... hm. Some kind of light, pretty nylon
filament tape. Hmm. WHO LEAVES *HEXAGONAL* fingerprints? I saved
this layer for future research, and went on to the next layer,
some kind of dark fabric tape, something like a camoflage grade of
duct tape. Duct tape with an adhesive that NASA should be using for
Space Shuttle re-entry tiles. HMMMM. Okay, an acetone spray should
soften it. Retreating to the back porch, so the acetone fumes wouldn't
eat my liver, I sprayed 100% (well, 99%; it's hygroscopic as heck)
acetone onto the outer layer of tape fabric. After several applications,
the dark-colored dye began working its way down the outside layer
of the mailing tube, demonstrating the phenomenon of electrophoresis
by producing a series of magnificently colored bands...... amazingly,
at the green band, midway through the set of brilliant rainbow stripes,
fluorescent green dye formed itself into discernable letters that read,
"NOTHING CAN STOP THE CREATIVE SPIRIT," wrapped neatly around the tube.
How did he do *THAT*? I tried the tape again. Still adhering.
In fact, adhering *BETTER*. Apparently the dye had been limiting the
effectiveness of the adhesive until I dissolved it out of the tape. Hmm.
I tried surgical scalpels. The strange fabric tape took the edge
right off a matched set of Wilkinson Number Fives that normally only
need re-sharpening once every two to three thoracic procedures. HMMM.
Okay. That's it..... going back to the surgical tools closet, I pulled
out the air-powered rotary saw. (This sucker is used for FAST removal
of major bone segments.) The supertape was tough, but not THAT tough;
under the assault of a 3000-rpm, diamond-edged, air-driven saw, it
succumbed. I'm glad he didn't use Kevlar (tm) filaments in a boron
nitride substrate.
EXCELLENT. The last layer....... apparently a variant species of
nylon filament tape. With NO EDGES. Now how the Niffleheim did Mike
do *THAT*? You can't MAKE nylon filament tape without an end
SOMEwhere.... "What am I supposed to do," I said aloud,"wave my arms
and say 'Open Sesame?'"
Obediently, the last layer of tape uncurled itself and rolled off
the end of the tube. It retreated quietly to a corner, where it stood
up on edge and began spinning fast enough to make a soft humming noise.
It took on a metallic hue, reminiscent of the Talking Rings in George
Pal's "THE TIME MACHINE." (It varies its speed to play simple tunes,
but its taste in music is putrid; mostly show tunes from poor musicals.
However, it moves too fast to catch, so I've learned to live with it.
At least it doesn't seem to eat anything.)
I opened the Inner Tube. VOILA. A beautifully-registered Kelly
Freas print, loaded with subliminals and unconscious sexual triggers and
all kinds of neat stuff, including a beautifully-composed Jittlograph.
Two feet by three feet.... WELL worth the time and trouble. I'll need
to blow some dough to buy a frame nice enough to do it justice.
Thank you, Mike.
I just have a few questions. What is the Thing In The Outer Tube,
and should I be feeding it? I notice the Outer Tube moves from place
to place on its own, and seems to be working its way toward my bedroom.
I also notice we've had no troubles with ants, spiders, breadcrumbs, or
even mice, since the Thing In The Tube moved in.
I threw the whole tube away when the garbage truck came through this
morning, and with any luck it will STAY gone. But just in case it comes
home mad, what should I leave out for it to snack on?
Thanks again....
=======================================================================
|| "C" gains much of its vaunted efficiency by employing a very ||
|| powerful pre-processor, normally referred to as a "programmer." ||
|| rem: "Ph-nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn." ||
=======================================================================
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
PXF3@psuvm.psu: >The Thing In The Tube Thu, 10 Dec 1992 07:47
You threw it away?? I'd have called the Smithsonian. Paula
PS Mine arrived back safely in my nice, normal heavy duty tube with two
pieces of tape in an "X" across the plastic cap. I did notice that the
clerks at the PO were all smiling on Tuesday.
--
Paula Ford | Internet: pxf3@psuvm.psu.edu | PO Box 674
"Snaefridh" | Bitnet: pxf3@psuvm | Hollidaysburg, PA 16648
Den som har droemt Udfaerd og Daad senker ej Sejl uden med Sorg,
--Bjoernstjerne Bjoernson
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Newsgroup: alt.fan.mike-jittlov, article: 1342
From: jittlov@gumby.cs.caltech.edu (Mike Jittlov)
Subject: Re: The Thing In The Tube
Date: 12 Dec 1992 15:06:32 GMT
Organization: California Institute of Technology, Pasadena
Keywords: green. bright green. large eyes. squidlike handling palps.
Gharlane of Eddore continues:
|On the subject of mailing tubes........
|Subsequent to Mike's somewhat negative and querulous comments about
|what he implied might have been overzealousness on my part, in terms
|of the way I wrapped the thing in the first place.......
|Well, it turns out the man is rather more subtle, devious, and
|perverted than even WE had given him credit for; herewith, my
|report on What I Got In The Mail:
|
|I noticed the P.O. box's outside paint was peeling and smoking a bit,
|in spots, and my mind's eye flashed to the Ark of the Covenant, in the
|ship's hold, burning its shipping crate from the inside.
An apt analogy. A Kelly Freas Poster is far beyond ordinaire.
|As I pulled it out, the unearthly emerald light spread throughout the
|post office. Everything shifted toward the green. Things began to
|move in stop-motion pixilation; a young girl on the outside steps
|could be seen, arms extended to her sides, swooping in circles above
|the pavement. Grown men, executives by their clothing, began riding
|around on their briefcases. Strips of stamps began to unwind from the
|dispensing machines and dance in formation on the floor.
Gol' - I hope your filmmaker father caught this on tape! It's always
fun to watch, and could probably win a little money on those Sunday
Night Video shows.
|hurried to my car, hiding the mailing tube under my jacket. I noticed
|the jacket had turned green, and the upholstery and paint job on the
|car followed suit within a block or two. Stop signs turned kelly green
|as I passed. ---- It was like being magically transported to Ireland.
I'm currently working on the Norway Effect. Watch for it.
|and brought in the block and tackle I use to pull my VW out of
|snowbanks.... Hmm. Some kind of mysterious tendril, apparently fixed
|to the inside of the cap, retreating into the mailing tube.......
Oh no...
|An hour or so with a two-horse drill, a masonry bit ---- I was able to
|extract the inside tube from the outer tube. The dull, booming "THOMP!"
|sound echoed hollowly as the interior tube pulled free. Ah - HAH....
|It hadn't been a hallucination. There *was* something adhering to the
|inside tube, and it looked for all the world like part of one of the
|subterranean creatures from "TREMORS."
Oh, RATS.
|I might have known that Mike would have pets from all kinds of neat
|movies. I looked into the end of the outer tube, and could see
Gharlane, I hate to tell you this...
|just for a second....an eye blinked open. I was momentarily paralyzed
|by the sight of a luminous green eye that must have been three inches
|in diameter. Something whipped out of the tube, barely missing my
|face, grabbed the end cap, and *SNAP*ped it back into place.
Excuse me, I have to make some urgent phonecalls.
|I tried surgical scalpels. The strange fabric tape took the edge
|right off a matched set of Wilkinson Number Fives that normally only
|need re-sharpening once every two to three thoracic procedures.
|Obediently, the last layer of tape uncurled itself and rolled off
|the end of the tube. It retreated quietly to a corner, where it stood
Yes, yes - this is called "Gaffer Tape", and is perfectly safe if kept
away from walls, windows, paper, plaster, paintings, hair, skin, and
anything with a surface. Keep this CLOSE BY - you will NEED it, soon.
|I opened the Inner Tube. VOILA. A beautifully-registered Kelly Freas
|print, loaded with subliminals and unconscious sexual triggers and all
|kinds of neat stuff, including a beautifully-composed Jittlograph.
|I just have a few questions. What is the Thing In The Outer Tube?
You don't want to know. Not yet.
|I notice the Outer Tube...seems to be working its way toward my bedroom.
Ohmyghod, that's a SURE indication! Bolt the bedroom door!!
Don't let anyone near the couch!! And - this is EXTREMELY important
- DO NOT SIGN ANYTHING!!!
I'll get right back to you - promise!!
__________________________________________ ___._`.*.'_._ ________
Mike Jittlov - Wizard, etc . . + * .o o.* `.`. +.
902 Ma/ wait-a-sec.. \-2714 ' * . ' ' |\^/| `. * . *
(213)/ ...am I crazy?? \ (: May All Your \V/ Good Dreams
<& alt.fan.mike-jittlov> and Fine Wishes /_\ Come True:)
=============================================== _/ \_ ===========
^
Yes! It's an actual newsgroup (67,000 subscribers worldwide), haven
to hyper-creative mega-crossposting -- plus the soon-to-be-historic
"SAVE THE WIZARD MOVIE!!" Postcard Campaign! Tune in and lurk on!!
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Gharlane of Eddore: The Thing In The Tube 11 Dec 92 00:54
Paula Ford writes:
> You threw it away?? I'd have called the Smithsonian. Paula
Well, I carried The Tube, which, by the weight, definitely contained
The Thing In The Tube, out to the curb and tossed it onto the garbage
truck yesterday morning. Something was making snarling noises as the
truck drove away, but I was too busy watching an entire white garbage
truck becoming a weird fluorescent green color to pay much attention.
I gave a sigh of relief as the truck departed, figuring the various
Green Effects would slack off, once the Creature was gone.....
Life returned to normal, if you discount the hours we spent examining
The Poster under various special filters and image enhancement programs,
looking for all the subliminals.
Then.... out of a clear blue sky (well, gray, actually; it's raining
here in California) there was a knock on the door this morning.
There, standing on my doorstep, was one of our loyal, hard-working
public servants.... a city trash collector. (Pardon me, I meant a
Materials Recycling Specialist, Professional Class. Have to be P.C.)
There was an odd green aura glowing about him, and a strange, absent
look in his eyes. He almost, but not quite, focussed on me, and then
spoke in a strange, halting rhythm:
"We... know... you did...n't ..mean...to ...throw...this....away.
So.....we .....brought...it .....back...... Here."
There was a strange green flaring in his eyes, and I experienced the
same momentary paralysis I'd felt the day before, looking into the end
of the Outer Tube. Knowing I shouldn't, but somehow unable to resist
the Will of the Green Aura, I reached out and accepted.... The Tube.
As my hand closed on it and his opened, he seemed to shake himself,
for all the world like a wet dog, and suddenly his eyes snapped into
focus. Looking strangely relieved, he said, "Well, that's it, then.
Let us know any time we can be of assistance." He touched the brim
of his plastic-sheathed rain hat briefly, a sketchy salute, and beat
a hasty retreat into the street.
.....leaving me standing there with -The Tube- in my hand.
So now I've got The Tube, and presumably, The Thing In The Tube, right
back where it started... in my living room. I'm positive it was making
anticipatory slurping noises, and I can only pray it'll prefer that
nice fresh turkey in the fridge to something old and stringy like me;
but while I was in the shower, *something* ate two parakeets, most of
the potted plants, and the loose chunk of rug I hadn't replaced yet.
The cats were precariously perched on top of the drapes, spitting and
hissing, and they hung on for dear life when I tried to get them down;
when I did, they started running so fast that their feet never touched
the floor as they beelined for the cat door and took off for the nearest
horizon. SOMETHING sure had spooked them.
So, folks, if you don't hear from me again, I just wanted to warn you:
Do *NOT* over-wrap your tubes when you send them to Mike. The man is
doing us all a favor, at great expense in terms of personal time and
hassle, and when you use too much nylon filament tape in the process of
Post-Office-proofing your mailing tubes, you can create an antagonized
mood at the far end; while Mr. M.J. is a gentleman, well-intentioned,
honest, and benevolent, he has spent far too much time in Hollywood, and
when pushed too far is apparently capable of Involving You With Things
Humans Were Not Meant To Know Of.
I know it will be a LONG time before I chance offending a Wizard again,
and I can only hope that I can reach a comfortable modus vivendi with The
Thing In The Tube *before* I inadvertantly become Purina Thing Chow.
As I type this, The Tube is standing, dead-center, in my living room,
spinning slowly and occasionally taking a sedate leap a few inches in the
air, while the Talking Ring spinning in the corner plays a thoroughly
mundane arrangement of "Shall We Dance," from "THE KING AND I."
I have a feeling I'm going to be lying awake all night, listening to
the likes of "I Could Have Danced All Night," and wondering if The Thing
In The Tube has gotten hungry again, yet.....
Take it from me, *NEVER* offend a Wizard with a warped sense of humor.
=========================================================================
From: jittlov@gumby.cs.caltech.edu (Mike Jittlov)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.mike-jittlov,sci.skeptic
Subject: Re: The Thing In The Tube
Date: 16 Dec 1992 15:55:01 GMT
Organization: California Institute of Technology, Pasadena
Keywords: greeeen. bright greeeeen. big eye, room spinninggggg
(Further adventures of the Thing that Hitchhiked with the Kelly
Freas Poster from "The Wizard of Speed and Time" feature film)
Okay, we're back! Just stay calm!!
|>Paula Ford writes:
|>You threw the tube away?? I'd have called the Smithsonian.
|>Mine arrived back safely ---- I did notice that the clerks at the
|>PO were all smiling on Tuesday.
Yes - THIS is the NORMAL effect!
|Gharlane of Eddore continues:
|Well, I carried The Tube, which, by the weight, definitely contained
|The Thing In The Tube, out to the curb and tossed it onto the garbage
|truck yesterday morning. Something was making snarling noises as the
|truck drove away, but I was too busy watching an entire white garbage
|truck becoming a weird fluorescent green color to pay much attention.
The Green Glow - this is also NORMAL! Green is GOOD! So don't
panic! It's not radioactive, this is NOT Disney's "Our Friend
the Atom" genie throwing atomic dust everywhere, it's JUST a SPECIAL
EFFECT! It's OKAY! REALLY!!
|Then.... there was a knock on the door this morning.
NOW, you can worry.
|a city trash collector. ---- There was a strange green flaring in his
|eyes, and I experienced the same momentary paralysis I'd felt the day
|before, looking into the end of the Outer Tube.
I mean, REALLY worry!
|I know it will be a LONG time before I chance offending a Wizard again,
I'm NOT offended! I AM ALARMED!!
|So now I've got The Thing In The Tube, right in my living room. I'm
|positive it was making anticipatory slurping noises, and I can only
|pray that I can reach a comfortable modus vivendi with The Thing In
|The Tube *before* I inadvertently become Purina Thing Chow.
Will you STOP taking this so calmly and humorously!??! This is deadly
SERIOUS!! Now LISTEN UP!!
What you have there, is NO ORDINARY blood-thirsty, slimey,
palp-tentacled, nerve-numbing, room-reeling, reeking and
seeking Thing-That-Won't-Leave!
What you have
is...
a...
(forgive me)
...a HOLLYWOOD PRODUCER!
But there's no reason to panic. Not yet. As long as the Tube is
glowing green, the Producer is feeding and will usually ignore you.
If there's anything that attracts Producers, it's the Lime Light
(the most visible aura emitted by the Creative Spirit). There's no
telling what kind of Producer you have - Movie Producer, Television,
Music Video, Recording, Computer Game - it doesn't matter, they're
all equally deadly. And they do that, by not dying.
That's true - Producers are virtually immortal. They're archetypes,
in the same evolutionary class as leeches and roaches. You may
THINK you've destroyed this one, but he'll just appear somewhere
else - somewhere that YOU don't know about. Right now, you at
least have him "tubular". (Pardon, no time for levity!)
And you have my most fervent apologies. Gads, I just can't believe
it - I took such pains to wrap that tube, just to prevent such a
catastrophe! Since the wrapping took most of the day, I barely made
it to the Hollywood Post Office before twilight. The Dark was already
sweeping over Wilcox & Hollywood, as I pedalled the WIZ-bike to the
ancient edifice (well over 30 years old!), and only my furious door-
pounding gained me entry. White-handed things began palp-slapping
against the glass doors, but their scum soon thankfully obscured
further nightmares beyond. I waited in line, a little nervous, but
at least your poster and tube were safe. Or so I THOUGHT.
I remember vividly, as the clerk weighed the tube, how she smiled
when the Lime Light swept warmly through the building, and the stamps
stop-motion-danced on the counter, etc, etc. She pressed the Express
Mail buzzer, and I heard a mail-truck back up to the side entrance -
its airlock hissing and engaging. The clerk hefted your poster tube,
and dutifully obeyed my notice ("FRAGILE! - UNDERHAND THROW ONLY!"),
achieving a reasonable trajectory when you consider the distance and
late hour. I thought it was only my imagination, that the airlock seal
was hit, ever so lightly. Only my imagination, that I heard muffled
screams, as the mail-truck drove haltingly away...
But enough. You can guess the rest.
|As I type this, The Tube is standing, dead-center, in my living room,
|spinning slowly and occasionally taking a leap a few inches in the air
Right. First of all, since you've removed the poster, the residual
creative energies will eventually be consumed. And you'll soon hear
a hissing sound, adjusting to a near-human voice, then attuning to
your actual brain waves, and to your every desire. Words, like:
"I've been hearing great things about your work. Let's do lunch."
"We all need friends in this business. I'm here for you."
"All I want is a free option on all rights."
"You'll have creative control, and I'll just handle the business end."
"Trust me. I wouldn't BE what I am today, if people didn't trust me."
"Don't worry about it, you can always buy out my interest."
"It's just a standard insurance form, I'm due a little protection."
"Please, just sign it! We can work out the details later!"
"I really cannot do my job, in an atmosphere of distrust."
"I can bring you love and power. Power and love."
Soon, the aura will change to a color that if you saw it on the
sidewalk you would step widely around it. And you will hear:
"There's no nudity, but let's just see what you've got."
"Get real, everybody's doing it now, you're nothing special."
"I really hated having to lie to you, believe me!"
"Look - be reasonable! Everything's negotiable."
"Hey, it's a compromise business."
"Well, that's your opinion, isn't it?"
"You've got YOUR definition of ethics, and I've got mine."
"This has nothing to do with morality! It's business!"
About that time, it will blacken, reek, and speak:
"Why should I do the work, when I can just take the credit?"
"I'll never lie or steal again! I swear to God!"
"Nobody saw anything! You can't prove it!"
"So what! I needed the money!"
"I'm telling you, don't talk about it, nobody cares about a victim."
"I've got connections, you don't wanna get me upset, or ELSE."
"You'll never work in this town again!"
(Deleted from the above are the usual plethorae of sexual and
religious epithets commonly used for punctuation and emphasis.)
You can call the Police, the Sheriff, the FBI, the State Attorney
General, the IR$ - but no law enforcement body or governmental
organization will do anything to actually help you - even though
you're supporting and paying for their services, with your taxes
and votes.
And honestly, why should they? It's not like they could lose their
jobs, and they already have your money. They are being paid to say
"no" in as many ways as diplomatically possible, so that you'll
eventually calm down and just go away.
The squeakiest wheels get the grease - but the grease usually drips
from the executive level, and you won't be allowed to reach it.
If you even succeed in getting a live voice on the phone, and getting
someone so naive as to be the end-point in the bureaucratic merry-go-
round, you will finally hear: "We have more important concerns, it's
really your problem."
So...you have to make it THEIRS.
First, you have to lure into the Tube, the Producer's natural enemy:
the Litigation Attorney.
Unfortunately, even an Attorney wouldn't normally touch a Producer.
Even at that base level, there's an element of professional courtesy.
You'll have to bait the Attorney with something. And this is easy.
Take an ordinary sheet of paper, and type the words "Promissory Note",
and "First Trust Deed", plus several paragraphs from the back of any
auto insurance form. You'll also need a virgin sacrifice - one of
outstanding promise. No problem, just staple on an unscratched LOTTO
ticket (your chances of winning are almost nonexistant - the Thing in
the Tube is a certainty). Put these on the end of a ten-foot stick,
and slide them into the tube. The Thing will grab the ticket, keeping
the legalese. Let the Thing have the stick. (And you may twist it.)
Now, make a sound like an ambulance. And stand back.
When the last Attorney has completely entered the Tube, you will hear:
"Relax, it's a matter of law, not a matter of justice."
"It's not illegal if no one finds out."
"Attorneys help those who help themselves."
"You get a reasonable doubt, for a reasonable price."
"Possession's 9 points of the law. The other 91% are my fees."
"I don't need to know the Law. I know the judge."
"Look, if it weren't for lawyers, you wouldn't need one."
All surrounding colors will dim and darken, as the Tube becomes a
negotiation black hole. Quickly put the Tube cap on. The Gaffer's
Tape should still be active, and it will help you. Eventually the
voices will be muffled, as they enter their "Mediation Stage". It
is a critical moment - your one chance to get rid of the lot, before
things get infinitely worse.
Problem: no toxic waste dump will accept the Tube. You have to send
it to a special end-point - to something with a much wider feeding
range, that not only devours the Creative Spirit, but attacks and
drains the entire spectrum of the Human Spirit, and seems to hold both
Producers and Attorneys in a kind of awed stasis.
Remarkably, this transporting is still easily accomplished. All it
takes is a $2.90 stamp, and an address label with the words "UNPAID
GIFT TAXES, The Internal Revenue Service, Washington D.C.". Affix
these to the Tube, and drop it off at the nearest Post Office.
That's all there is to it. Make your government work for you.
And enjoy that poster. You've earned it!
__________________________________________ ___._`.*.'_._ ________
Mike Jittlov - Wizard, etc . . + * .o o.* `.`. +.
902 Maltman, LA, CA 90026-2714 ' * . ' ' |\^/| `. * . *
(213) No-Human (noon, to moon) (: May All Your \V/ Good Dreams
<& alt.fan.mike-jittlov> and Fine Wishes /_\ Come True:)
=============================================== _/ \_ ===========
^
Yes! It's an actual newsgroup (67,000 subscribers worldwide), haven
to hyper-creative mega-crossposting -- plus the soon-to-be-historic
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
I can't seem to find a copy of the entry describing the Thing's
escape down the inland waterway, as it attempted to return to
its L.A. Spawning Grounds, and had to be pursued by several
regiments of the Army National Guard with anti-tank weapons.....
there was some talk of one of the Net.Censors having deleted
all entries pertaining to that exercise, in the interests of
"National Security," but I can't believe there are any real
Secrets involved..... however, now that I've made this posting,
should anything happen to me, or should I suddenly stop
communicating, you'll know that THEY have gotte
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