[Prev][Next][Index]
Yucks Digest V1 #70
Yucks Digest Wed, 24 Jul 91 Volume 1 : Issue 70
Today's Topics:
FAQ - What is the DoD?
Fetal Alcolhol Syndrome
An apt analysis
You bet!
Second verse, same as the first
Street Names
What does a "loner" keep in the fridge?
Yes, but what about the year after that?
The "Yucks" digest is a moderated list of the bizarre, the unusual, the
possibly insane, and the (usually) humorous. It is issued on a
semi-regular basis, as the whim and time present themselves.
Back issues may be ftp'd from arthur.cs.purdue.edu from
the ~ftp/pub/spaf/yucks directory. Material in archives
Mail.1--Mail.4 is not in digest format.
Back issues may also be obtained through a mail server. Send mail to
"yucks-request@uther.cs.purdue.edu" with a "Subject:" line of the
single word "help". You may also use this server to join or leave the
list, or to obtain an index of past issues.
Submissions and subscription requests should be sent to
spaf@cs.purdue.edu or yucks@uther.cs.purdue.edu
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 19 Jul 91 18:07:10 GMT
From: netnews@leadsv.UUCP (Leads Network News)
Subject: FAQ - What is the DoD?
Newsgroups: rec.motorcycles
This is a periodic posting intended to answer the frequently asked
question: What is the DoD? I have collected postings (including the
infamous original) from a variety of sources and repeat them here with
only light editing. The intent here is to enlighten and inform those
new to rec.motorcycles. Additions and corrections are welcome. Send
email to shoun@nebula.decnet.lockheed.com
Lissa
Enjoy
=========
_The Denizens of Doom: The Saga Unfolds_
by John Sloan DoD #0011
Periodically the question "What is DoD?" is raised. This is one of
those questions in the same class as "Why is the sky blue?", "If there
is a God, why is there so much suffering in the world?" and "Why do
women inevitably tell you that you're such a nice guy just before they
dump you?", the kinds of questions steeped in mysticism, tradition,
and philosophy, questions that have inspired research and discussion
by philosophers in locker rooms, motorcycle service bays, and in the
halls of academe for generations.
A long, long time ago (in computer time, where anything over a few
minutes is an eternity and the halting problem really is a problem) on
a computer far, far away on the net (topologically speaking; two
machines in the same room in Atlanta might route mail to one another
via a system in Chicago), a chap who wished to remain anonymous (but
who was eventually assigned the DoD membership #1) wrote a satire of
the various personalities and flame wars of rec.motorcycles, and
signed it "The Denizen of Doom". Not wishing to identify himself, he
asked that stalwart individual who would in the fullness of time
become DoD #2 to post it for him. DoD #2, not really giving a whit
about what other people thought and generally being a right thinking
individual, did so. Flaming and other amusements followed.
He who would become the holder of DoD membership #3 thought this was
the funniest thing he'd seen in a while (being the sort that is pretty
easily amused), so he claimed membership in the Denizens of Doom
Motorcycle Club, and started signing his postings with his membership
number.
Perhaps readers of rec.motorcycles were struck with the vision of a
motorcycle club with no dues, no rules, no restrictions as to brand or
make or model or national origin of motorcycle, a club organized
electronically. It may well be that readers were yearning to become a
part of something that would provide them with a greater identity, a
gestalt personality, something in which the whole was greater than the
sum of its parts. It could also be that we're all computer nerds who
wear black socks and sneakers and pocket protectors, who just happen
to also love taking risks on machines with awesome power to weight
ratios, social outcasts who saw a clique that would finally be open
minded enough to accept us as members.
In a clear case of self fulfilling prophesy, The Denizens of Doom
Motorcycle Club was born. A club in which the majority of members have
never met one another face to face (and perhaps like it that way), yet
feel that they know one another pretty well (or well enough given some
of the electronic personalities in the newsgroup). A club organized
and run (in the loosest sense of the word) by volunteers through the
network via electronic news and mail, with a membership/mailing list
(often used to organize group rides amongst members who live in the
same region), a motto, a logo, a series of photo albums circulating
around the country (organized by DoD #9), club patches (organized by
#11), and even an MTV-style music video (produced by #47 and
distributed on VHS by #18)!
Where will it end? Who knows? Will the DoD start sanctioning races,
placing limits on the memory and clock rate of the on-board engine
management computers? Will the DoD organize poker runs where each
participant collects a hand of hardware and software reference cards?
Will the DoD have a rally in which the attendees demand a terminal
room and at least a 386-sized UNIX system? Only time will tell.
The DoD has no dues, no rules, and no requirements other than net
access and a love for motorcycles. To become a member, one need only
ask (although we will admit that who you must ask is one of the few
really good club secrets). New members will receive via email a
membership number and the latest copy of the membership list, which
includes name, state, and email address.
The Denizens of Doom Motorcycle Club will live forever (or at least
until next year when we may decided to change the name).
Live to Flame - Flame to Live
-----
The DoD daemon as seen on the patches, pins, etc. by
Michael John David Espig DoD #: 0182
:-( DoD )-:
:-( x __ __ x )-:
:-( x / / \ \ x )-:
:-( x / / -\-----/- \ \ x )-:
:-( L | \/ \ / \/ | F )-:
:-( I | / \ / \ | L )-:
:-( V \/ __ / __ \/ A )-:
:-( E / / \ / \ \ M )-:
:-( | | \ / | | E )-:
:-( T | | . | _ | . | | )-:
:-( O | \___// \\___/ | T )-:
:-( \ \_/ / O )-:
:-( F \___ ___/ )-:
:-( L \ \ / / L )-:
:-( A \ vvvvv / I )-:
:-( M | ( ) | V )-:
:-( E | ^^^^^ | E )-:
:-( x \_______/ x )-:
:-( x x )-:
:-( x rec.motorcycles x )-:
:-( USENET )-:
-----
Script for the Denizens of Doom Anthem Video
by Jonathan E. Quist DoD #94
[Scene: A sterile engineering office. A lone figure, whom we'll call
Chuck, stands by a printer output bin, wearing a white CDC lab coat,
with 5 mechanical pencils in a pocket protector.]
(editor's note: For some reason a great deal of amusement was had at
the First Annual DoD Uni-Coastal Ironhorse Ride & Joust by denizens
referring to each other as "Chuck". I guess you had to be there. I
wasn't.)
Chuck: I didn't want to be a Software Systems Analyst,
cow-towing to the whims of a machine, and saying yessir, nosir,
may-I-have-another-sir. My mother made me do it. I wanted
to live a man's life,
[Music slowly builds in background]
riding Nortons and Triumphs through the highest mountain passes
and the deepest valleys,
living the life of a Motorcyclist;
doing donuts and evading the police;
terrorizing old ladies and raping small children;
eating small dogs for tea (and large dogs for dinner). In short,
I Want to be A Denizen!
[Chuck rips off his lab coat, revealing black leather jacket (with
fringe), boots, and cap. Scene simultaneously changes to the top of
an obviously assaulted Rollins Pass. A small throng of Hell's Angels
sit on their Harleys in the near background, gunning their engines,
showering lookers-on with nails as they turn donuts, and leaking oil
on the tarmac. Chuck is standing in front of a heavily chromed Fat
Boy.]
Chuck [Sings to the tune of "The Lumberjack Song"]:
I'm a Denizen and I'm okay,
I flame all night and I ride all day.
[Hell's Angels Echo Chorus, surprisingly heavy on tenors]:
He's a Denizen and he's okay,
He flames all night and he rides all day.
I ride my bike;
I eat my lunch;
I go to the lavat'ry.
On Wednesdays I ride Skyline,
Running children down with glee.
[Chorus]:
He rides his bike;
He eats his lunch;
He goes to the lavat'ry.
On Wednesdays he rides Skyline,
Running children down with glee.
[Chorus refrain]:
'Cause He's a Denizen...
I ride real fast,
My name is Chuck,
It somehow seems to fit.
I over-rate the worst bad f*ck,
But like a real good sh*t.
Oh, I'm a Denizen and I'm okay!
I flame all night and I ride all day.
[Chorus refrain]:
Oh, He's a Denizen...
I wear high heels
And bright pink shorts,
full leathers and a bra.
I wish I rode a Harley,
just like my dear mama.
[Chorus refrain]
-----
The DoD
by the Denizen of Doom DoD #1
Welcome one and all to the flamingest, most wonderfullest newsgroup of
all time: wreck.mudder-disciples or is it reak.mudder-disciples? The
Names have been changes to protect the Guilty (riders) and Innocent
(the bikes) alike. If you think you recognize a contorted version of
your name, you don't. It's just your guilt complex working against
you. Read 'em and weep.
We tune in on a conversation between some of our heros. Terrible
Barbarian is extolling the virtues of his Hopalonga Puff-a-cane to
Reverend Muck Mudgers and Stompin Fueling-Injection:
Terrible: This Hopalonga is the greatest... Beats BMWs dead!!
Muck: I don't mean to preach, Terrible, but lighten up on the BMW
crowd eh? I mean like I like riding my Yuka-yuka Fudgeo-Jammer
11 but what the heck.
Stompin: No way, the BMW is it, complete, that's all man.
Terrible: Nahhhh, you're sounding like Heritick Ratatnack! Hey, at
least he is selling his BMW and uses a Hopalonga Intercorruptor!
Not as good as a Puff-a-cane, should have been called a
Woosh-a-stream.
Stompin: You mean Wee-Stream.
Terrible: Waddya going to do? Call in reinforcements???
Stompin: Yehh man. Here comes Arlow Scarecrow and High Tech. Let's see
what they say, eh?
Muck: Now men, let's try to be civil about this.
High Tech: Hi, I'm a 9 and the BMW is the greatest.
Arlow: Other than my B.T. I love my BMW!
Terrible: B.T.???
Arlow: Burley Thumpison, the greatest all American ride you can own.
Muck: Ahhh, look, you're making Terrible gag.
Terrible: What does BMW stand for anyway???
Muck, Arlow, High: Beats Me, Wilhelm.
Terrible: Actually, my name is Terrible. Hmmm, I don't know either.
Muck: Say, here comes Chunky Bear.
Chunky: Hey, Hey, Hey! Smarter than your average bear!
Terrible: Hey, didn't you drop your BMW???
Chunky: All right eh, a little BooBoo, but I left him behind. I mean
even Villy Ogle flamed me for that!
Muck: It's okay, we all makes mistakes.
Out of the blue the West coasters arrive, led by Tread Orange with
Dill Snorkssy, Heritick Ratatnack, Buck Garnish, Snob Rasseller and
the perenial favorite: Hooter Boobin Brush!
Heritick: Heya Terrible, how's yer front to back bias?
Terrible: Not bad, sold yer BMW?
Heritick: Nahhh.
Hooter: Hoot, Hoot.
Buck: Nice tree Hooter, how'd ya get up there?
Hooter: Carbujectors from Hell!!!
Muck: What's a carbujector?
Hooter: Well, it ain't made of alumican!!! Made by Tilloslert!!
Muck: Ahh, come on down, we aren't going to flame ya, honest!!
Dill: Well, where do we race?
Snob: You know, Chunky, we know about about your drop and well, don't
ride!
Muck: No! No! Quiet!
Tread: BMW's are the greatest in my supreme level headed opinion.
They even have luggage made by Sourkraut!
High: My 9 too!
Terrible, Heritick, Dill, Buck: Nahhhhh!!!
Stompin, Tread, High, Chunky, Snob: Yesss Yessssss!!!
Before this issue could be resolved the Hopalonga crew called up more
cohorts from the local area including Polyanna Stirrup and the
infamous Booster Robiksen on his Cavortin!
Polyanna: Well, men, the real bikers use stirrups on their bikes like
I use on my Hopalonga Evening-Bird Special. Helpful for getting
it up on the ole ventral stand!
Terrible: Hopalonga's are great like Polyanna says and Yuka-Yuka's and
Sumarikis and Kersnapis are good too!
Booster: I hate Cavortin.
All: WE KNOW, WE KNOW.
Booster: I love Cavortin.
All: WE KNOW WE KNOW.
Muck: Well, what about Mucho Guzlers and Lepurras?
Snob, Tread: Nawwwwww.
Muck: What about a Tridump?
Terrible: Isn't that a chewing gum?
Muck: Auggggg, Waddda about a Pluck-a-kity?
Heritick: Heyya Muck, you tryin' to call up the demon rider himself?
Muck: No, no. There is more to Mudder-Disciples than arguing about make.
Two more riders zoom in, in the form of Pill Turret and Phalanx Lifter.
Pill: Out with dorsal stands and ventral stands forever.
Phalanx: Hey, I don't know about that.
And Now even more west coasters pour in.
Road O'Noblin: Hopalonga's are the greatest!
Maulled Beerstein: May you sit on a bikejector!
Suddenly more people arrived from the great dark nurth:
Kite Lanolin: Hey, BMW's are great, men.
Robo-Nickie: I prefer motorcycle to robot transformers, personally.
More riders from the west coast come into the discussion:
Aviator Sourgas: Get a Burley-Thumpison with a belted-rigged frame.
Guess Gasket: Go with a BMW or Burley-Thumpison.
With a roar and a screech the latest mudder-disciple thundered in. It
was none other that Clean Bikata on her Hopalonga CaBammerXorn.
Clean: Like look, Hopalonga are it but only CaBammerXorns.
Muck: Why??
Clean: Well, like it's gotta be a 6-banger or nothin.
Muck: But I only have a 4-banger.
Clean: No GOOD!
Chunky: Sob, some of us only have 2-bangers!
Clean: Inferior!
Stompin: Hey, look, here's proof BMW's are better. The Bimmer-Boys
burst into song: (singing) Beemer Babe, Beemer Babe give me a
thrill...
Road, Terrible, Polyanna, Maulled, Dill etc.: Wadddoes BMW stand for?
Heritick, Stompin, Snob, Chunky, Tread, Kite, High, Arlow: BEAT'S ME,
WILHEM!
Road, Terrible, Polyanna, Maulled, Dill etc.: Oh, don't you mean BMW?
And so the ensuing argument goes until the skies clouded over and the
thunder roared and the Greatest Mudder-Disciple (G.M.D.) of them all
boomed out.
G.M.D.: Enough of your bickering! You are doomed to riding
Bigot & Suction powered mini-trikes for your childish actions.
All: no, No, NO!!! Puhlease.
Does this mean that all of the wreck.mudder-disciples will be riding
mini-trikes? Are our arguing heros doomed? Tune in next week for the
next gut wretching episode of "The Yearning and Riderless" with its
ever increasing cast of characters. Where all technical problems will
be flamed over until well done. Next week's episode will answer the
question of: "To Helmet or Not to Helmet" will be aired, this is heady
material and viewer discretion is advised.
------------------------------
Date: Tue, 23 Jul 91 10:42:35 -0700
From: bostic@okeeffe.Berkeley.EDU (Keith Bostic)
Subject: Fetal Alcolhol Syndrome
To: /dev/null@okeeffe.Berkeley.EDU
>From Suzette Haden Elgin's "The Lonesome Node" vol 10 #6 (7-8/91):
Fetal Alcolhol Syndrome -- the impairment alleged to result from a
pregnant woman's drinking alcolhol -- is described in JAMA for
12/22-29/89 as "this globally disabling malady that has only recently
been recognized..." and as "this increasingly prevalent and
preventable tragedy." Diagnostic symptoms include "significant growth
retardation, mental deficit, altered facial characteristics, the
presence of other physical abnormalities..."
I do not understand. There are many European countries where women
have *always* routinely drunk alcohol during pregnancy; wine and/or
beer is served with meals in the way that salt and pepper are provided
in the United States. When I was pregnant in Switzerland my doctor
(knowing I couldn't tolerate milk) told me to drink at least a pint of
beer a day so I'd have no trouble nursing -- this was routine advice.
If regular consumption of alcohol is so dangerous to fetuses, why has
the syndrome "only recently been discovered"? Why haven't we been
observing massive epidemics of the disorder in Europe for as long as
anyone has been keeping track of infant health? I drank beer or wine
daily during all my pregnancies, and can say (not to brag, but for the
sake of the scientific record) that I had four superbly healthy
strapping children with no birth defects of any kindl; all four were
"highly gifted" by every one of the standardized measures.
I'm not alone in my doubts. NEW ENGLAND JOURNAL OF MEDICINE for
7/5/90 has a letter (from Drs. J. J. Alpert and Barry Zuckerman) on
page 60: "The careful work of a number of investigators has
identified no risks associated with the consumptioon of two or fewer
drinks per day by women who are well nourished and who do not abuse
other substances." I don't suggest that pregnant women -- or anybody
else -- should belt large quantities of alcohol regularly. I don't
suggest that the children showing these symptoms aren't seriously
impaired, or that this is not tragic. I do suggest that something's
wrong with the suggested causal relationship. And unless there is
some substance in alcohol sold in this country today that makes it
more dangerous than European alcohol, or more dangerous than alcohol
sold in the 1950's and 1960's, I object in the strongest terms to the
current policy of terrorizing women about moderate drinking. Every
woman whose baby is not born perfect, and who drank alcohol in early
pregnancy (often before knowing she was pregnant) now has to deal with
the claim that she caused her baby's problem by her drinking. That's
viciously cruel... it's like the ancient practice of blaming the
mother of a baby with a harelip for having looked at a rabbit during
pregnancy. The media and the "GP On The Street" give the impression
that there's no *question* about the danger of even the most limited
drinking in pregnancy; a careful examination of medical literature
quickly demonstrates that that's false. I would welcome any
information you have that clarifies this mess.
The Lonesome Node / Ozark Center for Language Studies
PO Box 1137 / Huntsville AR 72740
Subscriptions $10/year.
------------------------------
Date: Tue, 28 May 1991 14:30:05 PDT
From: cate3.osbu_north@xerox.com
Subject: An apt analysis
To: JXerarch.dl.osbu_north@xerox.com
Sorry, this is not a joke. I heard some guy named "L.J." (not a rapper)
on the radio today... his understanding of the situation gave him a
great source of cynicism. He has an article in the September
Harper's on the S&L thang.
Not really a joke, but here's a modern allegory. Enjoy, -todd
==========================
The Roots of Modern Terror
by St. Tribunal Overdrive and Gerry Reith, A0
You are among the many passengers of a large bus careening wildly down a
twisted mountain road. The bus is being driven by a drunk who is half
blind. He and those near the front are suffering from some sort of
intoxication from gaseous emissions. They are also drinking. It is night;
not even the moon is out to provide lighting. The main lights of the bus
are broken from near brushes with the steadily deteriorating old guardrails
that are the only thing between the bus and a twenty five hundred foot
plunge off a sheer face cliff.
The bus is travelling at a truly high rate of speed, etc. Evidently the
brakes are out. Only the screams of watchful passengers have kept the
sleeping driver from crashing. Within the last few minutes more than four
times the bus has had a near miss, headed straight forward into a sharp turn.
It is raining and the roads are slick.
You originally got into the bus to obtain protection from the elements.
This was long ago; so long that you don't remember. Way back then, some
wise guy started the bus, and began driving. The drivers have been changed
several times, but no matter what, they all speed up; they frequently
promise to slow down some; and they all drink heavily from seemingly
bottomless flasks stored near the front.
Most of the passengers sit, mute, staring off into space, rolling out of
their seats and not getting back into them. They seem paralyzed. Those
that still seem conscious are divided.
Most of them believe the bus is headed somewhere. So do the drivers. But
others know that there never was any particular destination in mind. A
while back you and some others found a map, inside something called a
``history book,'' and on the map was a picture of a road. The map has clear
markings that say ``Dead end.'' In fact, it is a deader end than most: the
map indicates that the road ends in an abrupt, unmarked precipice.
Some of the passengers want to get out but the windows and doors are
welded shut. When they go up front to talk with the driver or his
supporters near the font, who are also drunk, they are forcibly pushed back.
Shouts have one result: the driver speeds up, and slumps over the wheel more
frequently. Some of the passengers think that everyone should be quiet and
enjoy the ride. Others are positively certain that the driver should speed
up. Still more don't even think the bus is moving.
Once in awhile a passenger goes beserk, doing great physical harm to those
around him in an attempt to go and seize the wheel.
According to the map, you are not far from the end of the road. Most of
the people who are told this become immediately agitated and call for new
drivers. They then attempt to go and take the wheel, which causes the
present driver to swerve and screech around in an even more chaotic way.
You just want to stop the bus and get out, but you cannot. To no one else
has it occurred to stop the bus. And it seems that those in favor of
speeding up are gaining the upper hand; they are driven by the idea that if
they get there faster everything will be okay.
Federal Government.
------------------------------
Date: Tue, 28 May 1991 14:30:05 PDT
From: cate3.osbu_north@xerox.com
Subject: You bet!
To: JXerarch.dl.osbu_north@xerox.com
A sign in an eyeglass shop:
"EYES EXAMINED WHILE YOU WAIT."
By far the most comfortable procedure.
------------------------------
Date: Tue, 28 May 1991 14:30:05 PDT
From: cate3.osbu_north@xerox.com
Subject: Second verse, same as the first
To: JXerarch.dl.osbu_north@xerox.com
There is a convicted prisoner who is placed before a firing squad.
The commander says, "I have heard that you declined having a last meal."
"That's right." Says the prisoner.
"And you don't even want a last smoke, or a blindfold?"
"No, let's just get it over with."
"Is there no last request we can grant you before we shoot you?" Asks the
commander.
"Well..." Stammers the prisoner. "I am a great lover of music, and it would
mean a great deal to me if I am allowed to sing my favorite song, in it's
entirety, before I am shot."
"Since this wish of yours is your last request, I will grant it. You may sing."
Replies the commander.
So the prisoner starts...
"Ten million bottles of beer on the wall,
Ten million bottles of beer... "
------------------------------
Date: Tue, 23 Jul 91 01:08:07 -0400
From: dalex@eleazar.dartmouth.edu (Dave Alexander)
Subject: Street Names
To: eniac@mejac.palo-alto.ca.us
Here are some of the stupid street names that I know of. Enjoy!
Who Who Dr. Eddy County, NM
Four Wheel Dr. Windsor County, VT
Memory Ln. Bernalillo County, NM
Fast Ln.
Tennis Ct.
American Way Baton Rouge Parish, LA
Roach Ranch Rd. La Plata County, CA
Chicken Dinner Rd. Canyon County, ID
Arctic Cir. Clark County, NV
Fruit of the Loom Dr. Warren County, KY
Shaia Way Yellowstone County, MT
Goa Way Nevada County, CA
Chosen Pl.
Whoada Thot It Hill Rd. Shelbyville County, KY
Peepee Crk. Pike County, OH
Laycock Cut Off Rd. Clermont County, OH
Frontwheel Dr.
Superman Sq. Metropolis, IL
Lois Ln.
Forward Pass Licking County, OH
Over Dr.
Elephant Walk Orange County, FL
The St.
Trash Pile Rd. Gaston County, NC
Darn Steep Rd. El Dorado County, CA
Star Trek St. Bee County, TX
Pothole Rd. Klickitat County, WA
Big Dick Bend Rd. Marshall County, AL
These are just a few. I have forgotten hundreds more that I
have come across and neglected to write down. A pity.
------------------------------
Date: Tue, 23 Jul 91 21:30:19 PDT
From: one of our correspondants
Subject: What does a "loner" keep in the fridge?
To: yucks-request
Severed Heads Found In Fridge
MILWAUKEE (AP)
A handcuffed man flagged down police, said he'd been attacked and
led them to an apartment where they found many pieces of human
bodies, including three heads in a refrigerator, authorities said
Tuesday.
The man who lived in the dingy, fly-infested apartment was taken
into custody late Monday and police removed boxes filled with body
parts, a barrel of acid, a refrigerator and a dresser brimming with
photographs and drawings of mutilated dead bodies.
Neighbors had complained of a stench for up to a year, and on
Tuesday a hazardous materials team wore yellow rubber suits and
breathed from air tanks while removing boxes from the apartment. One
neighbor said he heard the sound of sawing from the apartment at all
hours.
Police Chief Phillip Arreola said there were many victims, most of
them male and of various races. He didn't specify the number. One
officer, who spoke on condition of anonymity, said there may have
been 15 victims.
Arreola said it was too early to determine if the killings were
sexually motivated, adding, "We don't know if this individual acted
alone or in concert with other individuals."
Police identified the suspect as Jeffrey L. Dahmer, 31. He was
booked on suspicion of homicide but wasn't charged Tuesday, Lt.
Thomas Breitlow said.
Ella Vickers, 31, who lives next door, said she and her husband
had smelled a repugnant odor for some time.
"We've been smelling odors for weeks, but we thought it was a dead
animal or something like that. We had no idea it was humans," Ms.
Vickers said.
Rolf Mueller, one of the patrolmen who made the discovery, said
officers were overpowered by the stench. Mueller said he found three
preserved human heads in the refrigerator.
"You think you've seen it all out here, and then something like
this happens," said Mueller, a 10-year police veteran.
Larry Marion, who managed the apartment when the suspect moved in
two years ago, said the smell was so bad last spring that many
residents complained.
He said the suspect claimed his refrigerator was broken, causing
meat to spoil. Marion said the stench had permeated from the
apartment intermittently for about a year.
"He didn't associate with many people, kind of a loner. But, he
never caused any problems. He worked every day and always paid his
rent," Marion said.
One neighbor told police he and his wife had heard sawing coming
from the apartment at all hours of the day and night.
"I asked my wife, `What is he building in there?"' said Vernell
Bass, 35.
Arreola said the body parts were found after a man on the street,
handcuffs dangling from his wrist, flagged down a patrol car Monday
night and said he had escaped from the apartment "after actually
being handcuffed and threatened with a knife."
------------------------------
Date: Tue, 23 Jul 91 15:53:51 -0700
From: bostic@okeeffe.Berkeley.EDU (Keith Bostic)
Subject: Yes, but what about the year after that?
To: /dev/null@okeeffe.Berkeley.EDU
>From: credmond@watmath.waterloo.edu (Chris Redmond)
Organization: University of Waterloo
In article <1882@disuns2.epfl.ch> riese@litsuns1.epfl.ch (Marc Riese) writes:
> I agree that The Bay is a very special company for Canada for its long and
> `colourful' history, but I *think* it's a youngster in comparison to certain
> European companies (although I couldn't name one). I remember hearing a story
> of an American company negotiating a business deal with a Swedish steel
> company. In the proposition sent to Europe, the American company mentioned
> some reliability concerns and asked for proof so that they could count on
> the Swedish company still being there in a year. In a terse letter, the
> Swedish firm replied that since they had existed more than four times the
> age of the USA, they didn't see why they would not be there the next year...
Comparable anecdote #1: At the 350th anniversary celebrations of
Harvard University, one speaker said, "Harvard is intimately bound
up with the history and culture of the United States -- an innovation
in which we have taken considerable interest."
Comparable anecdote #2: Someone has calculated that there are in Europe
26 (this number is my best recollection of what was said) organizations
that have been in continuous existence for at least five hundred years:
the Parliament at Westminster, the Althing (parliament) of Iceland, the
Roman Catholic Church, and 23 universities.
>From: brad@looking.on.ca (Brad Templeton)
Organization: Looking Glass Software Ltd.
Andecdote #3, told by Greg Benford: At an Oxford college, they were
debating what to do with all their money. The concensus was to buy land,
since "for the past thousand years, land has proven to be a very wise
investment for the college."
The crusty old patriarch piped in, "True, but the past thousand years have
been atypical."
------------------------------
End of Yucks Digest
------------------------------