AmigaTrek
From: mike@ames.arpa (Mike Smithwick)
Newsgroups: comp.sys.amiga
Subject: Re: Holy Parody Batman, not another AmigaTrek?
Summary: [kinda long, unless you're a speed reader]
Keywords: EnterBoing
Date: 10 Jan 88 04:39:05 GMT
[And now, for the lighter side of the Virus issue. . .]
Uh, hey Martha, he's at it again. You know, that Smithwick fella,
just doesn't know when to stop. . .
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
The reviews are in! "Amiga-The Next Generation" is a boffo hit!!
"I laughed all the way to bed last night!" - WF
". . .destined to be a classic. . ." - GL
":-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) " - RA
"Brilliant. . ., bravo" - DB
"I really don't know what 'EnterBoing' is, perhaps Jimmy
might"- T.F.Bakker
"Hey, my voice isn't that high" - LS
With that out of the way, I humbly submit for your approval,
[mentally change to Bold Face type]
>>>>>>>> AMIGA - The Next Generation, 2.0 <<<<<<
-- the Virus Strikes Back --
#define PARODY_BIT ON
Captain Dale : (stern, square jawed, no frills, stands gazing
distantly out through his office window, hands clasped
behind him. . .)) Captain's log, 32-28-32.8, the StarChip
Enterboing was on it's way to a rendezvous point in the
Denise star system. We were scheduled to meet the StarChip
RSN Shakespeare. This is the fourth time we've tried to meet
Shakespeare, but so far, they have yet to show up.
(we hear a short burst of musical notes over the intercom,
sounding much like an atonal passage from Wagner's "Ring")
Ensign Jim : Captain, we're getting a number of distress calls
about an outbreak of some "virus" or something. . .
Captain : I'll be right up.
(Two stagehands open the elevator door, and a determined
captain stumbles into the bridge taking his seat.)
Science officer Kodiak : Sir, we're getting word that this virus
has infected and has either destroyed or seriously messed up
numerous disks out in the User Community.
Captain : Damn, were's my Bartles-and-Jaymes when I need it.
Jim : Alotta compliants are coming from Netland sir, virus talk is
clogging systems around the known universe.
Lieutenant Dave : A transmission sir, coming from the StarChip
Public Domain.
Announcer : A fuzzy, broken picture appears on the screen, we see
the sullen face of the much repected and beloved Captain Fish, his
eyes are distant and glassy. Piles of disks lie scattered around
him. The picture breaks up as it fades in and out. Captain
Fish seems distraught, perhaps delirious. He looks up into
the camera, shakes two handfuls of floppies towards it.
Fish : [the image breaks up, scratch, garble] Disks! all my
[garble, snap] destroyed! [crackle, pop] murder the
[expletetive deleted, garbled] Fear, trembling among. . .
[snap, bleep] "your Amiga has a virus, HA ! HA ! HA ! your. . "
[fade, pop, scratch] HA ! HA ! [garble] . . . get me an ST.
Captain : The man's obviously suffering from delirium
Fish : [crackle, snap] . . . black leather and chains. . . [fade,
flicker] . . . PeeWee Herman and . . .[pop, grech] . . .vote
for Gary Hart. . .
(Enterboing looses the signal)
Captain : Now we know he needs our help. . .
Dave : This stuff sounds worse than EAs copy protection, wheeeew!
Announcer : Being true to his 32 colors, Captain Dale blits the
EnterBoing around, and goes into hi-res mode.
Captain : Ensign, set course for the BAADG Star System. If anyone
can figure this stuff out, they can. We must make this a
universe of Safe Sectors.
Announcer : Jim grabs his mouse and selects the new "preferences"
of Workbench 7.2. Hitting a couple of wrong buttons on his 27
button mouse, a strange message appears in the menu bar saying
"mono-tasking sucks eggs!"
Kodiak : Sir, more messages about the virus, coming in.
Apparently there are several different varieties from "harmless"
ones on up to deliberately malicious ones which can cause serious
destruction in this and neighboring dimensions.
Captain : And I thought that the Amiga race had evolved beyond
this sort of thing. What sort of slimeball would do this!
Announcer : The EnterBoing sailed on towards the unknown, while
all around the Amiga Universe users cowered in terror, wondering
if their copy of that great new screen-hack "OingBoingWoingZoing"
will be >>>The One<<<.
At last, EnterBoing reaches the borders of the Infected Zone, and
goes into orbit around the small puce-colored planet Foo. The
crew beams down to a hideous sight. Smoke pours fourth from
special effects generators, turning the sun blood-red. Burned out
buildings line the streets, while people wander aimlessly
clutching stacks of their beloved disks just cleaned of
all those nasty byte thingies. Everywhere people mumble things
like "click click click" or "formatting, verifying, formatting".
The crew stepped over piles of rubble (joyboards, c64 emulators,
Andy Warhol issues of Amiga World, little red unicycles) in the
street. Bonfires burned openly. Babies cried as their mothers
comforted them softly humming songs from "It's only Rock and Roll".
A seven year old comes up to Kodiak, tears streaming down his
round little cheeks. . .
kid : Please mister (he pleads in a calculatedly pitiful tone)
you got a good copy of Marble madness? Puleeeezzze??? I haven't
found the "secret level" yet. . .
Announcer : The crew was touched and angered by the expressions
of pure hopelessness. The sight of that young boy, XORed into
their collective cortexes.
Late that nite, the captain was in his study lost in thought. . .
Captain : Hmmm, now leseee-----I guess we'll "enter the city".
Gee, after 4 years of this and with 533,979 hit-points you'd
think that I'd find Mangar by now.
Announcer : Leaning back in his chair, he props his feet up on
the table, ready for a relaxing evening, when suddenly-----
(cymbal_crash=ON) on his screen appears : "HA HA HA! a virus is
in your Amiga! Formatting disk. . ."
The captain's face bleaches white, then turns red as
the purest form of anger grips him. The only noise in the room is
"click click click-Formatting cylinder 12, Verifying cylinder 12,
Formatting cylinder 13. . .".
From deep inside the captains throat comes a sound quite unlike
anything we've ever heard before. Louder than the mating call of
the Altarian Megadonkey, louder than Steve Jobs being fired, even
louder then a thousand ST owners saying why they don't "need"
multi-tasking.
"formatting cylinder 45, click, click, click (heh heh heh). . ."
Kodiak looks up from the book he's reading ("Vanna Speaks"). . .
Kodiak : What the hell was that?
Jim : It sounded like the voice of someone who just reformatted
their Bard's Tale character disk.
Dave : How do you know that?
Jim : Just look at page 10 of the script, dummy.
Announcer : The captain bursts into the crew quarters, kicks
aside the piles of dirty laundry, Amiga World subscription
notices, unused software registration forms, growling. . .
Captain : Let's get these Dogs! NOW!
Announcer : The crew roll out of their cots, and rush up to the
bridge. Kodiak immediately sets to access the EnterBoing's
database for a search of possible culprits.
Kodiak : Dammit! Where's the dongle!
Jim : What?
Kodiak : That thing you're playing with.
Jim : Oh, heh, sorry. Thought it was a mouseport protector.
Announcer : Plugging in the dongle, Kodiak checks references from
vandalism to satanic worship, from Democratic presidential
candidates to leprosy to BCPL. Anything that might offer a lead.
Kodiak : Wait, wait a minute here. Under the heading of "Mutant
hackers from the East" it sez that "the great SlimeLord Gronk, is
a smug and flatulent fellow, proud of his own cleverness. In
order to demonstrate just how clever he really is, Gronk likes to
play 'pranks' on computer users across the galaxy. By having his
servants, a form of 'mental eunuchs' create software 'viruses'.
These have little more utility than to create terror, discord and
all around nastiness in the user community by systematically
trashing disk after disk. 'Can't a guy have a little fun, huh?'
Gronk remarked once after one of his viruses was mistaken for a
simple-minded operating system. Later called 'MS-DOS', it almost
single-handedly set back the cause of personnel computing by 1200
years. Another one of his efforts unleashed upon the early Amiga
users caused otherwise perfectly healthy disk drives to
constantly repeat his name when running : 'gronk, gronk, gronk'.
Yeoman Leo : Let's Iconify this dude!
Announcer : The EnterBoing gracefully swings around and sweeps
off into the great unknown to meet their greatest enemy yet.
After the commercial for some "feminine hygiene" gunk, nose
drops, and "Chocolate Covered Sugar Bombs" Fortified Breakfast
Cereal-Breakfast of Geeks, StarChip EnterBoing settles around
a dark and foreboding planet.
Dave : I can feel the evil, the. . ., the. . .
Jim : Malevolence
Dave : Thanks. Malevolence, the . . .
Jim : Churlishness.
Dave : Yeah! Churlishness. The mental. . .
Jim : Putrescence?
Dave : no
Jim : Pournellelishness?
Dave : That's it!
Announcer : On their viewer, the planet loomed mightily before them.
Kodiak : Like wow man, look at that planet looming mightily before us.
Announcer : Looking much like an avocado with a bad case of acne.
Kodiak : Yeah, or an orange with hemorrhoids.
Jim : Captain, were getting a transmission from the SlimeLord
Announcer : On the screen appears the most hideous creature ever
seen or imagined. Looking much like an avocado with acne, or
Jerry Pournelle after a nights worth of partying. Gronk's skin,
if it could be called that, hangs loose on his twisted frame.
Open black sores ooze something to gross to even mention to this
bunch.
His head resembling a shriveled Mickey-Mouse balloon, is
indicative of his overall intelligence. On the wall behind Gronk
are the 3 most virulent letter in the Amiga universe (second only
to that "I" term) : "SCA", the Software Cancer Association
(actually it's the Software Crackers Association, an organized
group of cretins in Europe who crack and pirate software, and
apparently spread Trojan-Horses).
Gronk : Alien StarChip, Youse Guys want some software, yes? Real
cheap, I gotz me Fairy Tale, WordPerfect, TextCraft. I'ya got it
all.
Captain : Not on your life Gronk, you ugly dude, you. We don't
want any of your swill.
Jim : But sir, he's got TextCraft. Can't we make an exception?
Captain : What? And break the "Prime Directive"?
Jim : But siiiiiir, it's TextCraft!
Gronk : Well, captain, wanna deal?
Captain : Yeah, were going to deal with you alright.
Announcer : The crew donn special isolation garments: black shiny
jackets bearing the EnterBoing's emblem on the back.
They shimmer away in a blazing explosion of special effects. and
reappear in a bunch of twisty little mazes looking all alike.
Stuff crawls down the walls, their feet stick to the floor as if
they were in a cheap theater.
Through a port, they catch the sight of a small band of SCA
mutants busily working away dreaming up new viruses, or cracking
Jet, Arkanoid and Faccccc. Above them hangs the sign "Why buy
software, when you can steal it!". The crew slinks up to the
doorway, Pirate-Blasters drawn.
Cracker : Ha Ha! Hey Lou, check out this new virus. After 4
boots, it writes a Micro-Prose copy protection scheme to their
harddisk.
Captain : (whispers) Those vipers! Ok, Set blasters to "Warranty
Violation". GO!
Announcer : They dive into the room. Crackers turn around, terror
showing in their beady eyes and flaccid faces. Squealing like
baby pigs they scatter in every direction. Sweeping the room with
their pirate-blasters, the crew hits everything with a monitor
systematically violating all possible warranties. Paula chips
writhe in agony, gasping for bits but finding none. CRTs split
open, spilling their load of pixels onto the floor like so much
sand.
Thrilling, action-packed editing makes this a scene much too
intense for words.
And as quickly as it began, it was over. The crackers huddled
silently under the counters. Liquified computers litter the
room.
Kodiak : Gee, that was fun, letz do this again sometime.
Announcer : Dale grasps an especially homely cracker by his soft
pliable throat. Holding him up he stares into his little
twitching face. . .
Kodiak : Thatta-boy Captain, you hold-him and I'll modify him.
Captain : Where is Gronk?
Cracker : At the end of the hall, through the sliding doors that
stagehands must open to make look automatic.
Announcer : The crew makes their way down the hall, stopping now
and then to shake stuff off their feet. As then approach the door
labeled "His Gronkness, 1.0-Danger! 1 Million Ohms", 2 overpaid
stagehands yank it apart.
Gronk is playing with an illegal copy of Bard's Tale, and doesn't
notice his guests. Dale sees that he has just found Mangar.
A brilliant 16 color non-interlaced beam pierces through the
stuffy air, striking the system squarely in RastPort.
Gronk: What the Hell? (he jumps back from the smoldering rubble)
Who are you!
Jim : We're the Amiga Knights, here to mop up the Universe of
your ilk.
Dave : Snappy dialogue Jim!
Gronk : Oh, ok. But first, do I get a final requestor?
Captain : Well, ok, what do you want.
Gronk : Just what is the "Video Toaster".
Captain : Only the GnuTekians know for sure. Kodiak, ready?
Kodiak : 'natch. Ok extra-halfbright breath, stand back!
Announcer : Kodiak blasts the piles of bootleg software, and
stacks of new virus disks which were being readied for Beta test.
Gronk looks in horror.
Captain : Gronk, you are under arrest, for >>>Software Terrorism<<<.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Captain : Captain's log, 3.14159, following the arrest of Lord
Slimeball Gronk, we reformatted the planet in an effort to make
it useful to more productive races. Meanwhile Gronk is now
serving time in "computer hell", joining many others who violated
rules of common sense, decency and The Amiga Way (such as the
guys responsible for cancelling Max Headroom, the Amiga 500
on/off switch, or Thomas Rattigan). Gronk was sentenced to 500
years hard labor: developing a Real-time parallel processing OS
in Kanji-Basic, on an MSX machine.
Announcer : Afterwards, the crew had one other stop to make, back
to the planet Foo. They beam down to check up on the
reconstruction efforts as well as to deliver some new Fish Disks,
(numbers 6.11571x10E6 to 7.23551x10E6). Hundreds of eager hands
reach out for software nourishment, not to mention the latest Alan
Hastings video.
Meanwhile Kodiak approaches a familiar young boy and hands him a
new Marble-Madness. The kid's face brightens up. . .
Kid : Geeee, thanks mister! Wow. Say, you wouldn't happen to have
"Return to Atlantis", would you??
Kodiak : Nope, sorry kid, we may be able to work wonders, but not
miracles.
Kid : Well, then, uh, what about TextCraft.
Kodiak : Oh grow up.
#define PARODY_BIT OFF
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Stay tuned for the next excitigating bit-packed episode of Amiga-
The Next Generation 3.0-The Trouble with Marketroids.
(the above bit of mindless tripe is Copyright, 1988, by Mike Smithwick)
--
*** mike (powered by M&Ms) smithwick ***
"if peanut oil comes from peanuts, and olive oil comes from
olives, where does baby oil come from?" --- Lily Tomlin
[discalimer : nope, I don't work for NASA, I take full blame for my ideas]
Newsgroups: comp.sys.amiga
Subject: Re: Holy Parody Batman, not another AmigaTrek?
Summary: [kinda long, unless you're a speed reader]
Keywords: EnterBoing
Date: 10 Jan 88 04:39:05 GMT
[And now, for the lighter side of the Virus issue. . .]
Uh, hey Martha, he's at it again. You know, that Smithwick fella,
just doesn't know when to stop. . .
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
The reviews are in! "Amiga-The Next Generation" is a boffo hit!!
"I laughed all the way to bed last night!" - WF
". . .destined to be a classic. . ." - GL
":-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) " - RA
"Brilliant. . ., bravo" - DB
"I really don't know what 'EnterBoing' is, perhaps Jimmy
might"- T.F.Bakker
"Hey, my voice isn't that high" - LS
With that out of the way, I humbly submit for your approval,
[mentally change to Bold Face type]
>>>>>>>> AMIGA - The Next Generation, 2.0 <<<<<<
-- the Virus Strikes Back --
#define PARODY_BIT ON
Captain Dale : (stern, square jawed, no frills, stands gazing
distantly out through his office window, hands clasped
behind him. . .)) Captain's log, 32-28-32.8, the StarChip
Enterboing was on it's way to a rendezvous point in the
Denise star system. We were scheduled to meet the StarChip
RSN Shakespeare. This is the fourth time we've tried to meet
Shakespeare, but so far, they have yet to show up.
(we hear a short burst of musical notes over the intercom,
sounding much like an atonal passage from Wagner's "Ring")
Ensign Jim : Captain, we're getting a number of distress calls
about an outbreak of some "virus" or something. . .
Captain : I'll be right up.
(Two stagehands open the elevator door, and a determined
captain stumbles into the bridge taking his seat.)
Science officer Kodiak : Sir, we're getting word that this virus
has infected and has either destroyed or seriously messed up
numerous disks out in the User Community.
Captain : Damn, were's my Bartles-and-Jaymes when I need it.
Jim : Alotta compliants are coming from Netland sir, virus talk is
clogging systems around the known universe.
Lieutenant Dave : A transmission sir, coming from the StarChip
Public Domain.
Announcer : A fuzzy, broken picture appears on the screen, we see
the sullen face of the much repected and beloved Captain Fish, his
eyes are distant and glassy. Piles of disks lie scattered around
him. The picture breaks up as it fades in and out. Captain
Fish seems distraught, perhaps delirious. He looks up into
the camera, shakes two handfuls of floppies towards it.
Fish : [the image breaks up, scratch, garble] Disks! all my
[garble, snap] destroyed! [crackle, pop] murder the
[expletetive deleted, garbled] Fear, trembling among. . .
[snap, bleep] "your Amiga has a virus, HA ! HA ! HA ! your. . "
[fade, pop, scratch] HA ! HA ! [garble] . . . get me an ST.
Captain : The man's obviously suffering from delirium
Fish : [crackle, snap] . . . black leather and chains. . . [fade,
flicker] . . . PeeWee Herman and . . .[pop, grech] . . .vote
for Gary Hart. . .
(Enterboing looses the signal)
Captain : Now we know he needs our help. . .
Dave : This stuff sounds worse than EAs copy protection, wheeeew!
Announcer : Being true to his 32 colors, Captain Dale blits the
EnterBoing around, and goes into hi-res mode.
Captain : Ensign, set course for the BAADG Star System. If anyone
can figure this stuff out, they can. We must make this a
universe of Safe Sectors.
Announcer : Jim grabs his mouse and selects the new "preferences"
of Workbench 7.2. Hitting a couple of wrong buttons on his 27
button mouse, a strange message appears in the menu bar saying
"mono-tasking sucks eggs!"
Kodiak : Sir, more messages about the virus, coming in.
Apparently there are several different varieties from "harmless"
ones on up to deliberately malicious ones which can cause serious
destruction in this and neighboring dimensions.
Captain : And I thought that the Amiga race had evolved beyond
this sort of thing. What sort of slimeball would do this!
Announcer : The EnterBoing sailed on towards the unknown, while
all around the Amiga Universe users cowered in terror, wondering
if their copy of that great new screen-hack "OingBoingWoingZoing"
will be >>>The One<<<.
At last, EnterBoing reaches the borders of the Infected Zone, and
goes into orbit around the small puce-colored planet Foo. The
crew beams down to a hideous sight. Smoke pours fourth from
special effects generators, turning the sun blood-red. Burned out
buildings line the streets, while people wander aimlessly
clutching stacks of their beloved disks just cleaned of
all those nasty byte thingies. Everywhere people mumble things
like "click click click" or "formatting, verifying, formatting".
The crew stepped over piles of rubble (joyboards, c64 emulators,
Andy Warhol issues of Amiga World, little red unicycles) in the
street. Bonfires burned openly. Babies cried as their mothers
comforted them softly humming songs from "It's only Rock and Roll".
A seven year old comes up to Kodiak, tears streaming down his
round little cheeks. . .
kid : Please mister (he pleads in a calculatedly pitiful tone)
you got a good copy of Marble madness? Puleeeezzze??? I haven't
found the "secret level" yet. . .
Announcer : The crew was touched and angered by the expressions
of pure hopelessness. The sight of that young boy, XORed into
their collective cortexes.
Late that nite, the captain was in his study lost in thought. . .
Captain : Hmmm, now leseee-----I guess we'll "enter the city".
Gee, after 4 years of this and with 533,979 hit-points you'd
think that I'd find Mangar by now.
Announcer : Leaning back in his chair, he props his feet up on
the table, ready for a relaxing evening, when suddenly-----
(cymbal_crash=ON) on his screen appears : "HA HA HA! a virus is
in your Amiga! Formatting disk. . ."
The captain's face bleaches white, then turns red as
the purest form of anger grips him. The only noise in the room is
"click click click-Formatting cylinder 12, Verifying cylinder 12,
Formatting cylinder 13. . .".
From deep inside the captains throat comes a sound quite unlike
anything we've ever heard before. Louder than the mating call of
the Altarian Megadonkey, louder than Steve Jobs being fired, even
louder then a thousand ST owners saying why they don't "need"
multi-tasking.
"formatting cylinder 45, click, click, click (heh heh heh). . ."
Kodiak looks up from the book he's reading ("Vanna Speaks"). . .
Kodiak : What the hell was that?
Jim : It sounded like the voice of someone who just reformatted
their Bard's Tale character disk.
Dave : How do you know that?
Jim : Just look at page 10 of the script, dummy.
Announcer : The captain bursts into the crew quarters, kicks
aside the piles of dirty laundry, Amiga World subscription
notices, unused software registration forms, growling. . .
Captain : Let's get these Dogs! NOW!
Announcer : The crew roll out of their cots, and rush up to the
bridge. Kodiak immediately sets to access the EnterBoing's
database for a search of possible culprits.
Kodiak : Dammit! Where's the dongle!
Jim : What?
Kodiak : That thing you're playing with.
Jim : Oh, heh, sorry. Thought it was a mouseport protector.
Announcer : Plugging in the dongle, Kodiak checks references from
vandalism to satanic worship, from Democratic presidential
candidates to leprosy to BCPL. Anything that might offer a lead.
Kodiak : Wait, wait a minute here. Under the heading of "Mutant
hackers from the East" it sez that "the great SlimeLord Gronk, is
a smug and flatulent fellow, proud of his own cleverness. In
order to demonstrate just how clever he really is, Gronk likes to
play 'pranks' on computer users across the galaxy. By having his
servants, a form of 'mental eunuchs' create software 'viruses'.
These have little more utility than to create terror, discord and
all around nastiness in the user community by systematically
trashing disk after disk. 'Can't a guy have a little fun, huh?'
Gronk remarked once after one of his viruses was mistaken for a
simple-minded operating system. Later called 'MS-DOS', it almost
single-handedly set back the cause of personnel computing by 1200
years. Another one of his efforts unleashed upon the early Amiga
users caused otherwise perfectly healthy disk drives to
constantly repeat his name when running : 'gronk, gronk, gronk'.
Yeoman Leo : Let's Iconify this dude!
Announcer : The EnterBoing gracefully swings around and sweeps
off into the great unknown to meet their greatest enemy yet.
After the commercial for some "feminine hygiene" gunk, nose
drops, and "Chocolate Covered Sugar Bombs" Fortified Breakfast
Cereal-Breakfast of Geeks, StarChip EnterBoing settles around
a dark and foreboding planet.
Dave : I can feel the evil, the. . ., the. . .
Jim : Malevolence
Dave : Thanks. Malevolence, the . . .
Jim : Churlishness.
Dave : Yeah! Churlishness. The mental. . .
Jim : Putrescence?
Dave : no
Jim : Pournellelishness?
Dave : That's it!
Announcer : On their viewer, the planet loomed mightily before them.
Kodiak : Like wow man, look at that planet looming mightily before us.
Announcer : Looking much like an avocado with a bad case of acne.
Kodiak : Yeah, or an orange with hemorrhoids.
Jim : Captain, were getting a transmission from the SlimeLord
Announcer : On the screen appears the most hideous creature ever
seen or imagined. Looking much like an avocado with acne, or
Jerry Pournelle after a nights worth of partying. Gronk's skin,
if it could be called that, hangs loose on his twisted frame.
Open black sores ooze something to gross to even mention to this
bunch.
His head resembling a shriveled Mickey-Mouse balloon, is
indicative of his overall intelligence. On the wall behind Gronk
are the 3 most virulent letter in the Amiga universe (second only
to that "I" term) : "SCA", the Software Cancer Association
(actually it's the Software Crackers Association, an organized
group of cretins in Europe who crack and pirate software, and
apparently spread Trojan-Horses).
Gronk : Alien StarChip, Youse Guys want some software, yes? Real
cheap, I gotz me Fairy Tale, WordPerfect, TextCraft. I'ya got it
all.
Captain : Not on your life Gronk, you ugly dude, you. We don't
want any of your swill.
Jim : But sir, he's got TextCraft. Can't we make an exception?
Captain : What? And break the "Prime Directive"?
Jim : But siiiiiir, it's TextCraft!
Gronk : Well, captain, wanna deal?
Captain : Yeah, were going to deal with you alright.
Announcer : The crew donn special isolation garments: black shiny
jackets bearing the EnterBoing's emblem on the back.
They shimmer away in a blazing explosion of special effects. and
reappear in a bunch of twisty little mazes looking all alike.
Stuff crawls down the walls, their feet stick to the floor as if
they were in a cheap theater.
Through a port, they catch the sight of a small band of SCA
mutants busily working away dreaming up new viruses, or cracking
Jet, Arkanoid and Faccccc. Above them hangs the sign "Why buy
software, when you can steal it!". The crew slinks up to the
doorway, Pirate-Blasters drawn.
Cracker : Ha Ha! Hey Lou, check out this new virus. After 4
boots, it writes a Micro-Prose copy protection scheme to their
harddisk.
Captain : (whispers) Those vipers! Ok, Set blasters to "Warranty
Violation". GO!
Announcer : They dive into the room. Crackers turn around, terror
showing in their beady eyes and flaccid faces. Squealing like
baby pigs they scatter in every direction. Sweeping the room with
their pirate-blasters, the crew hits everything with a monitor
systematically violating all possible warranties. Paula chips
writhe in agony, gasping for bits but finding none. CRTs split
open, spilling their load of pixels onto the floor like so much
sand.
Thrilling, action-packed editing makes this a scene much too
intense for words.
And as quickly as it began, it was over. The crackers huddled
silently under the counters. Liquified computers litter the
room.
Kodiak : Gee, that was fun, letz do this again sometime.
Announcer : Dale grasps an especially homely cracker by his soft
pliable throat. Holding him up he stares into his little
twitching face. . .
Kodiak : Thatta-boy Captain, you hold-him and I'll modify him.
Captain : Where is Gronk?
Cracker : At the end of the hall, through the sliding doors that
stagehands must open to make look automatic.
Announcer : The crew makes their way down the hall, stopping now
and then to shake stuff off their feet. As then approach the door
labeled "His Gronkness, 1.0-Danger! 1 Million Ohms", 2 overpaid
stagehands yank it apart.
Gronk is playing with an illegal copy of Bard's Tale, and doesn't
notice his guests. Dale sees that he has just found Mangar.
A brilliant 16 color non-interlaced beam pierces through the
stuffy air, striking the system squarely in RastPort.
Gronk: What the Hell? (he jumps back from the smoldering rubble)
Who are you!
Jim : We're the Amiga Knights, here to mop up the Universe of
your ilk.
Dave : Snappy dialogue Jim!
Gronk : Oh, ok. But first, do I get a final requestor?
Captain : Well, ok, what do you want.
Gronk : Just what is the "Video Toaster".
Captain : Only the GnuTekians know for sure. Kodiak, ready?
Kodiak : 'natch. Ok extra-halfbright breath, stand back!
Announcer : Kodiak blasts the piles of bootleg software, and
stacks of new virus disks which were being readied for Beta test.
Gronk looks in horror.
Captain : Gronk, you are under arrest, for >>>Software Terrorism<<<.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Captain : Captain's log, 3.14159, following the arrest of Lord
Slimeball Gronk, we reformatted the planet in an effort to make
it useful to more productive races. Meanwhile Gronk is now
serving time in "computer hell", joining many others who violated
rules of common sense, decency and The Amiga Way (such as the
guys responsible for cancelling Max Headroom, the Amiga 500
on/off switch, or Thomas Rattigan). Gronk was sentenced to 500
years hard labor: developing a Real-time parallel processing OS
in Kanji-Basic, on an MSX machine.
Announcer : Afterwards, the crew had one other stop to make, back
to the planet Foo. They beam down to check up on the
reconstruction efforts as well as to deliver some new Fish Disks,
(numbers 6.11571x10E6 to 7.23551x10E6). Hundreds of eager hands
reach out for software nourishment, not to mention the latest Alan
Hastings video.
Meanwhile Kodiak approaches a familiar young boy and hands him a
new Marble-Madness. The kid's face brightens up. . .
Kid : Geeee, thanks mister! Wow. Say, you wouldn't happen to have
"Return to Atlantis", would you??
Kodiak : Nope, sorry kid, we may be able to work wonders, but not
miracles.
Kid : Well, then, uh, what about TextCraft.
Kodiak : Oh grow up.
#define PARODY_BIT OFF
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Stay tuned for the next excitigating bit-packed episode of Amiga-
The Next Generation 3.0-The Trouble with Marketroids.
(the above bit of mindless tripe is Copyright, 1988, by Mike Smithwick)
--
*** mike (powered by M&Ms) smithwick ***
"if peanut oil comes from peanuts, and olive oil comes from
olives, where does baby oil come from?" --- Lily Tomlin
[discalimer : nope, I don't work for NASA, I take full blame for my ideas]
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