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Sunlight Through The Shadows 1993 07
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[255D[0;1m[255D
Welcome
Copyright (c) 1993, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved
Welcome to Sunlight Through The Shadows magazine! In this issue, as well
as in the future, STTS will strive to bring you the best in fiction,
poetry, reviews, article, and other assorted reading material.
STTS wouldn't have been possible without the aid, support, and guidance
of three women:
Inez Harrison, publisher of Poetry In Motion newsletter. Her's was the
first electronic magazine I ever laid eyes upon, and also the first such
magazine to publish my work. She's given me advice, and, more
importantly, inspiration.
Lucia Chambers, publisher of Smoke & Mirrors Elec. Magazine and head of
Pen & Brush Network. She gave me advice on running a magazine,
encouragement, and hints as to the kind of people to look for in
writers.
Heather DeRouen, my wife. Listed last here, but always first in my
heart. She's proofread manuscripts, inspired me, listened to me, and,
most importantly, loved me. Never could I find a better woman to live
life by my side, nor a better friend.
Now that that's said and done... Again, welcome to Sunlight Through The
Shadows Magazine! I hope you enjoy it.
[255D[0;1;31m[255D
Joe DeRouen
STTS Editorial
Copyright (c) 1993, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved
Arrgh. I've been to school and learned all about grammar and rules, and
I know that "Arrgh" isn't generally the best way to start an editorial.
Nevertheless, for this one, it's most fitting.
It's 3 in the morning on July 31st and I have exactly 21 hours to get
this, the second issue of Sunlight Through The Shadows Magazine,
finished.
There's been some serious developments for the magazine since last I
wrote this editorial. We're now being carried "officially" by nearly 25
BBS's around the country. I say "officially" because I know it's
lingering upon literally thousands of BBS's hard drive across the US and
in Canada, but the SysOps of those systems haven't requested to be
included in the distribution list.
In addition to Pen & Brush Net, RIME, and the Internet, we're now
available via FREQ (file request) through FIDO. See DISTRIBUTION VIA
NETWORKS for more information.
This issue welcome Gage Steele to the staff with the beginning of a
series of articles on her induction and progression through the world of
BBSing. (FROM THE JOURNALS OF.. (pt.1) in the Feature Articles section)
Gage is a great new writer and I've enjoyed working with her. You'll be
seeing more from her in these digital pages in the months to come.
We've also been getting submissions! Yes, those golden little nuggets of
words have finally found their way to my doorstep. Keep those cards and
letters coming, folks! We're getting a lot now, but can always use more.
In addition to fiction and poetry, we're also looking for music and book
reviews, as well as general interest articles about pretty much
anything. If it's well-written and interesting, we want it.
I want to thank everyone who sent notes to say that they enjoyed the
first issue, as well as those of you who made suggestions for changes
and alterations. You were listening to, even if I didn't always agree
with you.
Let me know what you think of this, the August issue of STTS Magazine!
It's been a struggle to get out on time, but I think it was worth it.
Struggles usually are.
Just to say that this editorial has come full circle, I think I'll end
it with a resounding... Arrgh. <grin>
Joe DeRouen, July 31st 1993
[255D[0;1;36m[255D
The Staff and Contributing Writers of Sunlight Through The Shadows
------------------------------------------------------------------
The Staff
---------
Joe DeRouen............................Publisher, Editor, Fiction
Heather DeRouen........................Book Reviews
Bruce Diamond..........................Movie Reviews, feature article
Jason Malandro.........................Book Reviews
Russell Mirabelli......................Shareware Reviews
Randy Shipp............................Movie Reviews
Gage Steele............................Feature Article
Joe DeRouen publishes, edits, and writes for STTS magazine. He's had
poetry and fiction published in several on-line magazines and a few
paper publications as well. He's written exactly 1.5 novels, none of
which, alas, have seen the light of publication. He attends college
part-time in search of that always-elusive english degree. In his
spare time, he enjoys reading, running his BBS, collecting music,
playing with his five cats, singing opera, hunting pseudopods, and
most importantly spending time with his beautiful wife Heather.
Heather DeRouen writes software for the healthcare industry, CoSysOps
Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS, enjoys playing with her five cats,
cross-stitching, and reading. Most of all, she enjoys spending time
with her dapper, charming, witty, and handsome (not to mention modest)
husband Joe. Heather's help towards editing and proofreading this
magazine has been immeasurable.
Bruce Diamond, part-time pseudopod and ruler of a small island chain
off the coast of Chil, spends his time imitating desk lamps when he
isn't watching and critiquing movies for LIGHTS OUT, his BBS movie
review publication (now syndicated to over 15 boards). Bruce started
reviewing movies for profit in 1978, as part of a science fiction
opinion column he authored for THE BUYER'S GUIDE FOR COMICS FANDOM
(now called THE COMICS BUYER'S GUIDE). LIGHTS OUT, now a year old, is
available through Bruce's distributor, Jay Gaines' BBS AMERICA
(214-994-0093). Bruce is a freelance writer and video producer in the
Dallas/Fort Worth area.
Russell Mirabelli is currently pursuing his Master of Science degree
in Information Systems at the University of Texas at Arlington. He
works for an educational software company as a multimedia programmer.
He enjoys playing bass, cycling and rollerblading. He lives in
Arlington, Texas, with his wife and two cats.
Jason Malandro resides in Dallas, Texas, and has for most of his 24
years on Earth. He enjoys reading, writing, bowling, fencing, and
several other unrelated activities. Jason works in the publishing
industry and runs a successful florist business part-time. Single, he
shares his apartment with Ralphie, his pet iguana.
Randy Shipp is a sometimes-writer who specializes in half-finished
works, an idea he decided was chic and the sign of genius after
hearing about some unfinished symphony. The generous offer from Bruce
Diamond to join him in publishing (plus free movie passes!) led Randy
to take up movie criticism. When he's not picking movies apart, he's
showing conservative political thinkers the error of their ways,
reading, or playing bass or the guitar (depending on the day of the
week) He occasionally works selling computers, too. When he grows up,
he expects to teach high school history.
Gage Steele, illegitimate love child of Elvis Presley and Madonna, has
been calling BBS's since the early seventies. Having aspired to write
for an electronic magazine all her life, Gage is now living the
American dream. Aged somewhere between 21 and 43, she plans to
eventually get an english degree and teach foreign children not to
dangle their participles.
Contributing Writers
--------------------
John Chambers..........................Fiction
Lucia Chambers.........................Poetry
Ed Davis...............................Fiction
Robert McKay...........................Fiction
Tamara.................................Poetry
John Chambers, forty-something, shares SysOp duties of Pen & Brush BBS
with his wife Lucia. John is the information Systems Director for the
association which accredits psychotherapists in the United States. He
also runs ABEnet, a BBS devoted exclusively to the psychotherapy
community.
Lucia Chambers, thirty-something, shares SysOp duties of Pen & Brush
BBS with her husband John. Aside from running a BBS and a network of
the same name, Lucia publishes Smoke & Mirrors, an on-line/elec.
magazine which features fiction, poetry, and recipes. She works as a
consultant in the Washington D.C. area and also writes for a living.
Ed Davis has been scribbling seriously or has at least enjoyed the
electronic equivalent, since 1981. Prior to that, his literary efforts
were confined to whatever scrap paper he could find on a work bench at
break or lunch time, since he was spending his working hours making
chips and money in the guise of a Journeyman Machinist. Married to
the same lady for 26 years and with two children still hovering
uncomfortably close to the nest, Ed continues to write down his
thoughts electronically. Check out the file NEWBOOK.ZIP, available
from STTS BBS, for more of his work.
Born in Hawthorne, Ca., (but currently residing in Oklahoma) Robert
McKay's been writing since he was a teenager. Only recently, however,
did he began to seriously try to sell his stories. Robert recently
signed the contracts to have his first two science fiction novels
published on disk. Hopefully, this is merely the prelude to bigger and
better things. (of course it is, Robert. You got published here,
didn't you? <grin> -Ed.)
There is very little known about Tamara, and she prefers to let it
remain that way. She's a woman of mystery and prefers to remain hidden
in the shadows of the BBS world. (Actually, I still haven't gotten her
profile. But it sounds much more enigmatic this way, don't you think?)
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[255DLetters To The Editor
Send any and all comments you have concerning STTS Magazine to Joe
DeRouen, via any of the routes covered under CONTACT POINTS, listed
elsewhere in this magazine.
Now, on to a few letters...
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Joe,
I really enjoyed the first issue of Sunlight Through The Shadows.
It seems to contain just the right balance of reviews and stories. I
particulary enjoyed your fiction piece THE ROGER AND THE DRAGON. I
wonder how many people caught the play on the title "The Dragon and
the George?" (a Philip K. Dick novel - ED)
The reviews were excellent as well, particulary the music reviews.
Now I only wish I could find the CD! Keep up the good work!
Sincerely,
Rebecca Quill
Rebecca Quill
Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear STTS,
The first issue of Sunlight Through The Shadows was, on a scale
of 1 to 10, a solid 9. I really enjoyed it!
Kudos to both the shareware reviews (Russell Mirabelli) and the
movie reviews (Bruce Diamond and Randy Shipp) Both were well done and
informative. I enjoyed the book and music reviews as well, though my
personal interest lies more in the movies and software.
Thanks,
John Anderson
John Anderson
Channel 1 BBS
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[255D[0;1;32m[255D
Sunlight Through The Shadows Monthly Contest Giveaway
Each month, STTS magazine will be giving away two prizes. The prizes
will range from registered versions of popular shareware packages to
Compact Discs, to a year subscription (via a disk mailed to you) to
STTS On-Line! In other words, you never know what we'll be giving away
next!
If the prize is shareware/software, unless otherwise noted, the
versions available will be IBM compatible only. If another version
is available, we'll make a note of that and ask you to let us know what
system you have.
To enter, please send me a note containing the following information:
1. Full name
2. Street/P.O. Address
3. City, state, zip
4. Country (if not USA)
5. Prize choice (first entry drawn gets their choice,
second entry gets the other prize)
6. Disk size (1.2 or 1.44, high density or low density)
7. Where you obtained your copy of STTS (if on a BBS, name
and phone number of BBS)
8. The current date (Mm/Dd/Yy)
This information can be sent to me via several different avenues. All
of the following should reach me.
PCRelay/RIME ->SUNLIGHT (in the Common conference)
InterNet: joe.derouen@chrysalis.org
Pen & Brush Network ->SUNLIGHT (in any conference)
FIDO 1:124/8010
WME Network - Net Chat, Poetry & Prose
If nothing else, send a postcard to..
Joe DeRouen
14232 Marsh Ln. # 51
Dallas, Tx. 75234
To be eligible for the contest every month, you have to register every
month. Try to send me your entry as soon as possible. If I receive it
after the 25th day of the month, I'll put it in with the following
month's entries.
WINNERS FOR JULY
Larry Reynolds of Dallas, Texas won the registered version of Book-E
text-to-executable program. He registered on STTS BBS via E-Mail.
Anna Newburg of Toronto, Ontario, Canada won the registered version of
Quote! random quote generator. She registered via a postcard.
PRIZE FOR AUGUST
August's prize (to be sent out sometime shortly after Sept. 1st) is
Cineplay's VGA/Soundblaster commercial game FREE DC!
FREE DC!
In this Cineplay adventure, you'll battle dangerous robots, laugh at
the antics of your sidekick Wattson and comb the jungle for a
mysterious gadget that holds the key to the survival of the last
eight humans on Earth.
FREE DC! features lifelike cinematic images and origial stereo
soundtrack, action packed story by a professional screenwriter,
live actors and claymation characters from the creator of the
California Raisins, Point-and-click control, and much more!
[255D[0;1mÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
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[255DFrom The Journal Of.. (Part 1)
Copyright (c) 1993, Gage Steele
All rights reserved
[ The following is a true story. Names and places have been changed
to protect the innocent and to avoid any lawsuits that might
decide to rear their ugly heads ]
It's funny how you look back on things you've done or been or said,
and realise you're trying not to laugh at yourself and how silly you
used to be. Maybe it's just me. I didn't used to smirk about my past,
but... I don't know. It seems the more years that go by, the more
often I catch myself doing it. And, the years are going by so much
more quickly than they once did.
I wasn't quite 17 when Mom brought home that bulky PS/2 25. She
said I had to have it for all those term papers I'd be writing when I
began college in the fall, just a few months away. Besides, she told
me, it was practically top-of-the-line, even if I did think it looked
like a sick joke on MacIntosh. I have to tell you, though, that Mom
and I are very different, not just as far as computing goes, but in
many ways. Strictly speaking in techie terms, well, I'd been the
guinea pig for all of those early 80s "computer lab" classes in the
elementary and junior highschools; Mom, on the other hand, could take
shorthand and xerox like a whirligig, but the offices she worked in
hadn't caught the silicon wave yet, so to speak. So, after she helped
me (maybe that should read "I helped her") plug it in and set it up on
my desk, she swiftly exited the back bedroom, telling me I'd have to
"show her the neat tricks" to my new toy, someday. It wasn't a horrid
machine, but I still think the salesman buttered her up a good bit.
Hey, that isn't to say my mom's a moron! Consider the time period.
Big business guys were wetting their BVDs over Display Write 4 and
anyone whose resume' purported proficiency in it. I think Mom really
did mean what she said about showing her the ins and outs. Something
about teaching old dogs... I'm sure she didn't want the embarrassment
of attending one of those job skill courses, either. Come on, can you
imagine my mom, at early 40something, sitting in a night class with 20
clones of me, just to get a $.50 raise because she mastered that DW4
thingy? Better to stick with just one version of me (the one that
broke the mold!) and learn it quietly. THEN, get the raise.
At first, the PS/2 did little but weight papers and hold the desk
firmly to the floor. I wrote some journal entries into First Choice,
futzed with Larry 1, but that was about it. Most of my time was spent
at the dance club downtown. I was, afterall, still a kid. Soon,
though, my friends started in with the "oooh's" over the machine. That
was fun, almost like having a Corvette presented to you on your 16th
birthday, I guess. Okay, maybe that was exaggerated. Still, it's
true. I was (practically) the only one on my block with a real, live
computer. That's what got my fingers back on the keyboard. Ahh,
impressionable teen years, how I do NOT miss you and the overwhelming
desire to be "hip" that is intrinsically a part of you. Basically,
that's all it was. My friends thought it was just "too intellectual"
of me, therefor I was cool.
In August, I gingerly stepped into the college scene as your plain
vanilla "undeclared, but I'm an English Major." I think, in that first
semestre, I managed to add at least $5.00 per month to the electric
bill, writing and rewriting those fateful terms her maternal and all-
knowingness had warned me about. Yes, the IBeeMer was humming full
force. I even managed to pound the DOS (v3.3) basics into Mom's skull,
between classes and essay edits (She faked it through the entry exam,
by the way, but got the promotion). I soon found I hadn't the time to
play in the club or meander through the mall anymore. Somehow, I didn't
miss it much. A good lot of my highschool crowd hadn't gone on to
college. The ones that did, as well as the new people I met in my
classes, were under the same time pressures I was. Although I didn't
realise it then, slowly, whatever free time I did have was being spent
doing computer stuff.
Christmas brought a 2400 baud modem and a starter kit to Paragon (I
suppose you could say that this is where the real meat of this story
begins). I'd had the PS/2 for 8 months and (don't you dare laugh)
dubbed her "Gertrude." I knew ol' Gertie, much like a 50s Greaser
knew his prized hotrod, claiming he was the only one she'd kick over
for. In some respect, I was bored within the confines of my 20 meg
harddrive. Let's face it, even hotrods have their limits. This modem
thing, though, intrigued me. To use the computer to dial the phone so
that I could read and post memos to people across the country seemed
unfathomable. I wasn't interested, yet, in the how's of it all. I
just wanted to be there and do that.
I was the brat at the sleepover parties that didn't want to go to
sleep for fear of missing something. I think I was always like that.
It wasn't nosiness, exactly, just a wanting to know "it" (whatever it
was) before anyone else. As with the novelty of being the first in
the crowd to have a computer, this modem and Paragon again offered me
the chance to experience and experiment with something way before my
buddies would. Now, before you go into that "you power hungry
beastling" squall, you have to know that I like to teach people, too.
It's that "helper/fixer" personality at work. So, along with that dose
of power (I'll admit it), came the opportunity to tutor others.
Armed with a bag of Doritos, a can of Pepsi, the startup disk and a
New York exchange telephone number (to the Paragon Tech line, just in
case), I began my descent into the telecommunications world.
Back then, Paragon was laughably small as compared to the mega
systems we have now, but in perspective, it was the monster of its
genre. After entering my account id and password, the modem hooted and
hollered, and BAM!, there was a full MCGA colour welcome screen. My
eyes would have drooled, were they able. I didn't bother with the
"new user tour." I never was one to read docs or do the demonstration
thing. Sometimes, I'm just a pighead. Instead, I poked every button
(froze the system twice!) and found myself face-to-monitor with 158 notes
about "Proper Parenting Practises."
People were everywhere and they all seemed so friendly. Sure, none
of it was "live," but I didn't care; I'd never called anywhere else,
so I didn't know what I was "missing." Every time I turned around,
there was another note just added to some subject I was interested in.
To heck with buying magazines and reading books, I thought to myself,
I'll just login to Paragon for a quickie email answer from my pal in
Iowa.
Sadly, in a few months' time I was bored with the big P. Having
already found the "walls" of my own system, it didn't take me long to
bump into those of another.
Something else was happening, too. These people weren't as nice as
they seemed. Because we couldn't see each other, words and emotion
verifiers (like smiley faces) were very important. Sometimes, horrific
wars sprang up between users (and consorts of each) over misinterpreted
tone. And, let me tell you, things could get so blown out of
proportion!
Take, for example, my encounter with a girl called Cindy. She was
15 and adored the music message bases, posting slews of notes about
Depeche Mode. She was sweet, in her own way, but I thought she was
more than a little immature and more than a lot obsessed. The whole
thing went something like this:
-----
From: Cindy
To: All
Subject: DM RULES
if anyone sez DM sux i'll bash them so good they'll wish they were
never born. DM is the greatest band that ever lived and i'd do
anything for them especially defend them from idit posers that
don't have taist. love cindy
From: Gage
To: Cindy
Subject: DM RULES
Wow. You really must like them. You sort of remind me of myself
a few years ago. I loved [some band], but now, I wouldn't listen
to them if you payed me. Just remember that people change and
just because they don't like the same thing you do doesn't mean
they're dumb.
Who knows, five years from now, you might loathe Depeche.
Stranger things have happened.
I'm not saying you're wrong. It's just that nothing ever stays
the same. You know?
From: Cindy
To: Gage
Subject: DM RULES
your a b*tch i bet you like new kids on the block and wet the bed.
at least now me and my freinds no what a loser you are and we
won't have to listen to anything you say and none of us will talk
to you. go ahed and reply to this so we can laugh some more at
you. your anti DM and i hope you go to he** for offending them.
-----
Maybe I should have stayed out of it, but that chick was really
getting on my nerves. Now, I hadn't said anything rude, at least, I
didn't think so, but I ran right into unfamiliar territory I now call
"lost reality." Because, while you're online, you can be whatever you
wish you really were, I think people forget what the real world is
really like. Online, Cindy was DM Queen and she had to defend that
title.
Cindy came back at me like a whip already cracked. For a
while, I even had my own message subject, lovingly entitled (by Cindy)
"GAGE IS FAKE." It was there that she managed to post no less than 67
notes describing my faults and lack of intelligence, before Paragon big
wigs pulled the plug on her account. They say it was for "abusive
behavior." I say it was for a reality cheque that bounced.
And, yes, Cindy really did write that way. It wasn't a slur on my
part.
The whole thing has been in the back of my mind all these years.
Sometimes, I wonder if Cindy still defends Depeche Mode's honor with
the vigour we saw from her on the bb's. Other times, I simply shake my
head. I've heard people speak about the world of telecommunications
as though it were a physical place. Maybe it is. I don't know. Or,
maybe, just a little maybe, it's a good bit more like a drug with a
nastier addiction rate than any grade of Cocaine imaginable. Perhaps
that's what keeps the memoury of Cindy so fresh and puzzling.
It was then that Paragon announced they would be charging us for
email usage. A lady called Rose, whom I will never forget, emailed me
details of the Paragon boycott after I poked my nose into a discussion
about the new billing. She also described to me, very carefully, how to
signup and login to JEannie. It was the first great exodus and I was a
part of it, at the ripe old age of 18.
[255D[0;1;35m[255D
Movie to the Max!
Copyright (c) 1993, Bruce Diamond
All rights reserved
MOVIES TO THE MAX!
or
How To See Tina, Seattle, The 7 Dwarfs, And Raptors
All On The Same Day Without Paying Full Price
(And Without Getting Arrested)
You've got twenty bucks in your pocket. And you've got a
free afternoon. What to do? It ain't enough for a good time in
the red-light district, and a twenty-dollar meal means you gotta
dress up. Phooey. Well, if you're a movie nut like me (and if
you aren't, why not?), you may be ready for the Movies To The
Max! challenge. Say four new films have just opened, and you're
dying to see all of them. Can you see them in one afternoon, all
before matinee prices expire at 6:00? I say you can, and I'm
going to show you how.
There are, of course, a couple of catches. The major catch
is you have to live in a major metropolitan area with several
movie theaters. As much as some critics and movie buffs have
decried the growth of the shoebox multiplex theaters from the
mid-'70s through today, the expansion of such centers of
celluloid sensationalism has allowed more people to see a wider
variety of movies than ever before. It's a trade-off I've
learned to live with. The advent of THX stereo, better
reflective surfaces on screens, re-releases of 70mm epics (such
as LAWRENCE OF ARABIA), the creation of new 70mm films, along
with the latest developments of DTS (Digital Theater Sound) and
ultra-realistic computer animation have helped mollify me
somewhat. But the best use of the shoebox theaters is to
maximize my movie-going experience!
The second catch is the limited season. The *only* time you
can maximize your movie-going experience is during the summer
(outside of the week and a half between Christmas and New
Year's), for only during this time do movie theaters open early
enough to allow you to see four movies in one afternoon. Some
pleasure palaces open as early as 11:00 during the summer,
allowing you to while away the afternoon munching popcorn and
hissing villains.
Becoming a Movies To The Max! member requires some
judicious planning, provided you're even game for such an insane
enterprise. Herewith, I've provided a checklist to get you
through the day, with some dos and don'ts thrown in.
MOVIES TO THE MAX! CHECKLIST
1. Go alone, or with someone who's just as crazy and speedy as
you are. Don't be surprised if you take someone along and
find that person dragging you down so you miss the opening of
one of the films. Of course, if you're late for one, you're
late for every one after that.
2. Make sure you have a full tank of gas. Stopping for gas
along the way ruins your timing.
3. Plan your afternoon carefully, with the aid of the movie
section of the weekend paper. Make sure you have the right
weekend (I've made this mistake before). If you haven't
bought the Saturday or Sunday paper that day, don't panic.
You don't have to make an extra trip, because the Friday
edition of most papers carries a weekend entertainment guide
that lists the theater times.
4. Need I say it? Make sure your car's fluids are topped off
and the tires are in good condition so you don't have to stop
for anything.
5. Want to save money on concessions? Start the day with an
icechest packed with a lunch, snacks and drinks. Eat on your
way to the next movie. Make sure to pack safe foods, like
sandwiches, so you're not digging in bags for chips or
whatever. Safety first, which also means avoiding packing
complicated sandwiches that have stuff falling out of them
(like olives, onions, pickles, etc.). Cut the sandwiches in
half for better handling.
6. Drive the speed limit. Getting stopped for a ticket also
ruins your timing.
7. Gotta pee? If it isn't *that* pressing (don't risk bladder
problems, in other words), try to hold it and use the
restroom at the next theater. It'll be less crowded than the
restroom in the theater you're leaving. No lines, no
waiting, better for the schedule.
8. Try to schedule the short movies first, like any animated
flick (SNOW WHITE, for example) or comedies (like WEEKEND AT
BERNIE'S 2, not that I'd recommend you see it). Save the
heavy dramas (like THE FIRM) for the end of your movie-going
day. Most movies fall into a two hour and twenty minute
showing schedule, so if you choose a film that pushes the two
hour envelope, you crowd your chances of four movies in one
afternoon. Don't know how long a movie runs? Well, after
you've made your choices, call the theater and ask when the
movie ends. Or check the next beginning time for your movie.
If the beginning times are three hours apart, you can bet the
film is over two hours long.
9. The twenty minute envelope of opportunity between showings is
your travel time (and eating time, if you prefer that
option). Select theaters that are no farther than 10 miles
apart and you should accomplish your mission. If you choose
theaters that are farther apart, you risk a cop-induced
delay.
10. Going to the dollar theaters is cheating. Any mook can see
four movies in one day without paying full admission prices
by going to second-run houses. Yours is a higher calling.
Live up to the Movies To The Max! challenge.
11. Something that won't save you any gas, but might save you
time on viewing day, is to buy your tickets in advance. Most
theaters will sell advance tickets at the box office, even
for a next day's showing. In the Dallas/Fort Worth area, the
General Cinema chain even sells tickets by phone, as does the
444-3456 (444-FILM) film listing service.
12. To save on travel time and wear and tear on your nerves, try
to see as many movies at one location as you can, schedule
permitting. If you can see all four movies at the same
theater, more's the better.
13. Obviously, be sure of where you're going. Movie-seeing day
is *not* the time to buy a map.
Movies To The Max! isn't for the faint of heart. I
developed this system out of a need to catch up on the week's
releases for LIGHTS OUT's early days. If you're up to the Movies
To The Max! challenge, take it, and share your stories with me
through Joe DeRouen. I have to live vicariously through other
people's Movies To The Max! experiences now since I began
attending press screenings and don't have to catch every release
of the week in one day. Some life, eh?
[ Bruce Diamond (along with Randy Shipp) reviews movies each
month in THROUGH THE MAGIC LANTERN, brought to you in every
issue of this magazine. He also writes and publishes a
(usually) monthly electronic magazine of his own,
LIGHTS OUT. ]
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[1;37mÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
[255DThrough The Magic Lantern
Copyright (c) 1993, Diamond & Shipp
All rights reserved
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
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WITH BRUCE DIAMOND AND RANDY SHIPP
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
³THE FIRM: Sydney Pollack, director. Screenplay by David ³
³Rabe, Robert Towne & David Rayfiel. Based on the book by ³
³John Grisham. Stars Tom Cruise, Jeanne Tripplehorn, Gene ³
³Hackman, Ed Harris, Holly Hunter, Hal Holbrook, David ³
³Strathairn, Gary Busey, and Wilford Brimley. Paramount ³
³Pictures. Rated R. ³
ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ
RANDY SHIPP: Welcome back to another edition of THROUGH THE
MAGIC LANTERN with Randy Shipp and Bruce Diamond!
I'm Shipp...
DIAMOND: ...and I'm Diamond.
SHIPP: In this issue, Bruce and I will be reviewing the new
thriller, THE FIRM, based on the book of the same name by
John Grisham.
DIAMOND: Have you ever dreamed of having it all? All of us
have, from time to time, but for third-year Harvard law
student Mitch McDeere, the dream comes true. For
Mitch, the dream comes packaged in an incredible offer
from a small, but wealthy law firm located in Memphis,
Tennessee.
SHIPP: Not as high-profile as the big New York or Chicago firms,
Bendini, Lambert & Locke still manage to make McDeere an
offer he can scarcely refuse. Complete with a new
Mercedes and a furnished home in relaxed Memphis, the
firm's offer brings Mitch (Tom Cruise) and his wife Abby
(Jeanne Tripplehorn) to a quick decision, and Mitch
becomes a new associate.
DIAMOND: Suspicious statements at first cause them concern...
the firm encourages children, the firm will allow Abby
to take a job, the firm likes stability...but the offer
still sounds too good to be true. And, as Mitch finds
out, the golden opportunity quickly turns to brass.
SHIPP: From there, the audience is drawn into the sinister side
of Bendini, Lambert & Locke, where no associate has ever
divorced, no associate has ever failed the bar exam, and
no associate has ever left the firm.
DIAMOND: When Mitch discovers this sinister side, he's caught
between his ideals and his ambition. How can he
succeed in this shady firm without tarnishing his
ethics, and how can he help the FBI to bring the firm
down without violating the lawyer/client privilege and
becoming disbarred?
SHIPP: Tom Cruise turns in a downright respectable performance
as McDeere, who is forced to live with his mistakes and
his misjudgements about the firm. Mitch is a man who
feels honor-bound by his oath, but who knows he has no
choice but to risk everything.
DIAMOND: The character of Mitch McDeere intrigues me, but I
don't think director Sidney Pollack and the screen-
writers (David Rabe, Robert Towne & David Rayfiel) have
given us enough character depth. While we see Mitch
torn between what boils down to, simplistically, "right
and wrong," I don't see enough of his "ambition and
greed" (as the Paramount PR calls it) to really believe
he's tempted to remain on the sinister path.
SHIPP: You're right. In many places, we're almost led to
believe that any "ambition and greed" Mitch might have is
really an act, the result of a poor childhood. He really
does come across as pretty much a good guy.
DIAMOND: I haven't had the privilege of reading Grisham's book,
but I'm given to understand that this "dark side" of
Mitch's personality is given more attention. Even
without this needed depth of character, Mitch does come
across as believably motivated, and, let's face it, the
movie is already well over two hours long. The studio
might have balked at more.
SHIPP: Once the pace does pick up, around an hour into it, the
movie does rush along nicely, full of urgency and
suspense. Once Mitch makes the decision to fight the
firm, shadowed as he is by FBI agent Wayne Tarrance (the
brooding and barely recognizable Ed Harris) the film
really starts up. The first hour, though, seemed a bit
slow.
DIAMOND: Slow? The first hour was moderately paced, yes, but
the character interaction between Mitch and his mentor
Avery Tolar (Gene Hackman) absolutely fascinated me.
Tolar seems to be Mitch's mirror image -- we see the
young Tolar in Mitch's idealism, just as we see Gene
Hackman himself mirrored by Tom Cruise.
SHIPP: And, as we later find out, Tolar represents what Mitch
could become, if he falls too deeply into the firm's web.
Hackman's character had a lot more depth, especially as
the story played out, and Hackman does a great job of
making Tolar a kind of tragic anti-hero. Tolar is a
playboy, brash and cocky, and it's only through time, and
Hackman's capable acting, that we find out what a lonely,
ruined man Tolar really is.
DIAMOND: Here's where the triumph of casting comes to play in
THE FIRM. Hackman and Cruise are perfect foils for
each other. Each has been typified by wise ass roles
in the past, the square peg that doesn't want to fit
into the round hole. Hackman never had Cruise's
obvious leading leading-man looks, and Cruise may never
develop Hackman's urbane sophistication, but the
personalities and on-screen styles are remarkably
close. Most especially now that Cruise has matured as
an actor.
SHIPP: Matured a lot. Even through the first half of A FEW GOOD
MEN, I found myself dreading the thought of another hour
of Cruise's TOP GUN routine. It wasn't until that movie
was over that I started to see how Cruise might've grown
up a little. Regardless of how well Mitch's part was
written, I think Cruise has finally shown that he can do
the serious stuff.
DIAMOND: Cruise impressed me with how he was able to hold his
own against Nicholson in A FEW GOOD MEN. Ever since
BORN ON THE FOURTH OF JULY, Cruise has shown a little
more maturity and a little more talent (despite gaffes
like DAYS OF THUNDER and FAR AND AWAY). I'm not on the
Cruise bandwagon yet, but I could be if he continues
like this.
SHIPP: And it's not just Cruise and Hackman who work well in THE
FIRM. Wilford Brimley turns in a surprisingly caustic
performance as the head of security for the firm.
William Devasher is responsible for most of the terror
and paranoia in the film.
DIAMOND: As well he should. Devasher reports directly to the
Mafia mob that Bendini, Lambert & Locke front for.
Therefore, all of the firm's lawyers ultimately report
to him, which makes for a strange power situation.
It's a delicious twist that leaves us guessing
sometimes as to who's really in charge.
SHIPP: Devasher's a serious guy, and there are some good moments
when he and Tolar clash. Avery's carefree, playboy
attitude runs very counter to Devasher's sinister
seriousness. In a way, I think the verbal sparring which
Tolar and Devasher engage in is intended to prepare us
for the fact that Tolar's heart really isn't in the dirty
business of the firm. It kind of sets Tolar up as a
rival of the "evil" part of the firm.
DIAMOND: The scene you're thinking of, if I'm right, is when
Devasher tells the senior partners about the link
between Mitch and the FBI. At first, the verbal
sparring, as you referred to it, seemed mere artifice,
just two actors engaging in make believe name-calling.
But by the time it's finished, I could have sworn
Hackman and Brimley would have killed each other.
SHIPP: It's interesting, all this talk of relationships between
characters -- Mitch and Avery, Avery and Devasher, Mitch
and Abby -- I think it cuts to the chase about what I
liked in THE FIRM. A lot of it can be attributed to
great casting but the fact is, the interactions between
all these characters winds up being a heck of a lot more
interesting than any of them would've been on their own.
DIAMOND: And, in a way, it winds up being a bit more interesting
than the actual mystery of how Mitch stings the firm
while preserving his own integrity. I guessed what
evidence he had planned for the FBI in the same scene
that he realizes it, but the final scene with the mob
representatives kinda took me by surprise. Good work
all around, and that includes a juicy feature cameo by
Garry Busey as a private investigator and Holly Hunter
as his secretary, who later becomes Mitch's partner in
gathering evidence against the firm. I'm giving THE
FIRM 7 out of 10 points.
SHIPP: Don't forget the cameo by David Strathairn as Mitch's
convict brother, the loose end that finally sets Devasher
onto Mitch's trail. Great job in such a small role.
Anyway, as I was about to say, the mystery in THE FIRM
almost seems like a backdrop for the character drama
which is really going on. In places the movie is
predictable, in places poorly fleshed-out, but for the
most part, we're given some great on screen pair-ups, and
see a different side of some actors we've not seen
before. Not my pick for Best Picture, but I'll rally
behind you in giving THE FIRM 7 of 10 points.
DIAMOND: Y'know, Randy, we really need to find something to
disagree about next time. How about we dust off the
old ALIENS as entertainment vs. ALIENS as big guns in
space argument?
SHIPP: Nah, that'd be too easy. Maybe we'll have a chance to
disagree on ROBIN HOOD: MEN IN TIGHTS, as I know you
didn't care much for SPACEBALLS, and I loved it. That
might work...but anyway, we hope all of you will join us
for the next installment of THROUGH THE MAGIC LANTERN.
DIAMOND: Be with us next time when we discuss another summer
blockbuster. Until then, we'll meet YOU at the
matinee. I'm Starsky.
SHIPP: hahaha...and I'm the Sundance Kid. See you then.
[255D[0;1;33m[255D
Reprinted by permission
from Lights Out magazine
Copyright (c) 1993, Bruce Diamond
All rights reserved
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
³ WHAT'S LOVE GOT TO DO WITH IT: Brian Gibson, director. ³
³ Kate Lanier, screenplay. Based on I, TINA by Tina Tur- ³
³ ner and Kurt Loder. Stars Angela Bassett, Laurence ³
³ Fishburne, Vanessa Bell Calloway, Jenifer Lewis, Phyl- ³
³ lis Yvonne Stickney and Khandi Alexander. Touchstone ³
³ Pictures. Rated R. ³
ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ
** Reviewed by Bruce Diamond **
(from the June issue of LIGHTS OUT)
Biopics taken from autobiographies always start from a
faulty premise -- namely, we're supposedly getting the "true
story," but all we're really getting is one side of the situa-
tion. The other person/side is usually not afforded the luxury
of even a token defense, with no chance to refute or substantiate
any of the allegations that are made. Hey, nobody said life was
fair, so I'm not naive enough to think that both sides are re-
ceiving equal time in WHAT'S LOVE GOT TO DO WITH IT, the life
story of Tina Turner.
Now, don't get me wrong -- I don't want to diminish what Ike
Turner did to Tina. The beatings, the cocaine, the jealousy over
Tina's rising popularity, it all happened. But you do have to
realize that all we're seeing here is Tina's side of the story.
The film portrays her as a saint, taking the abuse and never,
ever stepping across any moral or ethical lines herself. To
watch this movie, you'd have to believe that Tina was perfect her
entire life, never sassing her mother and standing by her man
even when he was blacking her eyes and bloodying her nose. Tina
Turner has had more than her fair share of problems, this is
true. I wouldn't wish this life on anybody, not even my worst
enemies. But credibility is destroyed when she's painted as
someone who has done no wrong.
Admittedly, despite the lengths I've gone to here, this
seeming saintliness doesn't get in the way of the story. This
film is a powerful statement on Tina's life, and further testa-
ment to her comeback in the early '80s. She practically had to
go through the fire to prove to us, and to herself, that she
deserved her fame on her own merits, and that she didn't deserve
the beatings she received at Ike's hands. The real scars,
though, the ones that matter, are the emotional ones. Those are
the ones Tina will have to carry the rest of her life.
Ike's fury is loosely linked to feelings of inadequacy and a
growing dependency on cocaine throughout the late '60s and into
the '70s. When it explodes on-screen, though, it's rather unex-
pected, even if you are familiar with what happened. The build-
up, at least for me, is unsatisfactory and simplistic. Larry
Fishburne (from BOYZ IN THE HOOD, 1991, and DEEP COVER, 1992) is
convincing as Ike Turner, but Angela Bassett is the true power
behind the success of this film. She has Tina's energy, stage
presence, gestures, shimmies, and even her snarl down perfect,
although sometimes she seemed too choreographed. (And I don't
mean just her dancing.) Brian Gibson's direction is rather
ordinary, but the sheer power of the story will inspire you and
have you applauding for Tina when she appears on-screen in actual
concert footage. Anna Mae Bullock (Tina's real name) has come a
long way to become the recording superstar she is today.
RATING: $$$ (out of $$$$$)
[255D[0;1;36m[255D
The Best on the Boards
Copyright (c) 1993, Russell Mirabelli
All rights reserved
Many bulletin boards across the nation have a huge amount of software to
choose from for download. Most have so many titles that determining
which ones might be worth the download time is difficult. In this
column, I will attempt to help you sort through the huge morass of
shareware available and let you know which titles I feel are worth your
evaluation. All the software reviewed in this column is available on
many bulletin boards throughout the country. If you have difficulty
locating a particular title, I recommend that you contact its author at
the address listed.
CASTLE OF THE WINDS, an Epic MegaGames release, is an ultima-style
adventure game that runs within Windows. Being a big fan of this genre
of games, and being a Windows programmer by trade, I felt obligated to
give it a try.
The first time that I looked at CotW, I was impressed by its miserable
user interface. That was in version 1.0, however, and this interface
problem has been cleaned up considerably in version 1.1. The interface
makes excellent use of multiple open windows, a button bar, an extensive
help system,and customizable menus and icons.
For game play, the first task is to name your character. After doing so,
you are allowed to modify the character's statistics somewhat. It seemed
to me that this was a somewhat trivial task, as these statistics don't
come into obvious play at any point during the game. Don't waste too
much time with this step. After doing so , you are allowed to use a
custom icon to represent your character during the game. No editor is
included, and that fact is never spelled out.
After you have a character created, you must go out and adventure in a
smallish dungeon to the north of the town in which you live. Your
godparent's farm was burned, and clues lead you there. After four levels
of killing monsters, you return to the village to find it entirely
razed. You travel to another village to the west, and enter a much
larger dungeon.
All of this is well and good, and follows the steady reliable plot of
many adventure games. The important question is, does it work this time?
For me, the answer was a resounding yes. I felt compelled to complete
the game, and it held my interest the entire time that I was playing
(approximately 12 hours).
The help system is one of the nicest features of the game. Rather than
provide a textfile manual, there is a large, well- written hypertext
help system covering all the important game aspects. This allows easy
access to the information without having to print out a small novel.
Another very nice feature of the game is an automapping function. While
looking around for the next set of stairs down, all that is needed is to
press ALT-M and a full level map appears on the screen. Very helpful.
CotW is not without its problems, however. Some of the spells and magic
items do not seem to have a real use, and towards the end some of the
monsters are nearly undefeatable without a very concentrated
magic/weapons alternating attack. The reason that this is so
discomforting is that the dungeons are pretty much a piece of cake until
this point, and then suddenly you have to think about what you're doing.
Not very friendly, in my eyes.
All in all, CotW is a very worthwhile download. Its easy-to-use
interface, the fact that it is in a unique genre for shareware, and the
way in which it grasps the player's attention all make it a good choice-
and worth registering. Registration gets you the follow-up episode
LOFTHANSIR'S BANE, and is a very reasonable $25.00.
Value 9 Usability 8 Performance 7 -------------- Overall
Castle of the Winds Epic MegaGames 10406 Holbrook Dr. Potomac, MD 20854
If you are a shareware author and would like to see your product
reviewed in this column, please contact me either via e-mail at the STTS
bulletin board, through RIME, WME, or P&BNET, or via conventional mail.
My conventional mail address is:
Russell Mirabelli
1216 Lamar Blvd E #508
Arlington, TX 76011
[255D[0;1;31m[255D
The Best on the Boards
Copyright (c) 1993, Russell Mirabelli
All rights reserved
Many bulletin boards across the nation have a huge amount of
software to choose from for download. Most have so many titles
that determining which ones might be worth the download time is
difficult. In this column, I will attempt to help you sort through
the huge morass of shareware available and let you know which
titles I feel are worth your evaluation. All the software reviewed
in this column is available on many bulletin boards throughout the
country. If you have difficulty locating a particular title, I
recommend that you contact its author at the address listed.
DRAG AND ZIP is a Windows shell for PKZIP and PKUNZIP. In that
brief description, it may not sound like much, but it is so very
easy to use that it falls into the category of "can't live
without" software.
Most of my days are spent entirely within Windows, and I often
am bringing compressed files form one computer to another. Until
I met DNZ, I had to exit Windows, change directories, run PKZIP
from the command line, and then bring Windows back up. NO MORE!
now, I simply double-click on a .ZIP file in the file viewer,
and DNZ will take care of making sure that the files all reach
the directories I want.
Zipping files up is equally easy. DNZ's zipping program sits,
minimized as an icon, and all that the user needs to do is drag
the files from the file manager and drop them on top of the DNZ
icon. A dialog box will ask for a file name and options, and
then it's taken care of.
Another nice feature of DNZ is that it allows the user to get
use of all the obscure command-line parameters that PKZIP
offers. Without DNZ, I would never use fast memcopy, EMS, 386
protection, or any of the other two dozen options I now use
regularly.
DNZ does require that you already have a copy of PKZIP, and it
will support the latest version (as of this writing:2.1g).
This may sound like a rave, and it is. I simply could not get
much of my work done as quickly as I do if it were not for Drag
and Zip. Its $25 registration fee is a pittance for the
heavy-duty functionality that it provides. If you haven't
downloaded this one yet, DO IT NOW!!!
Value 10
Usability 9
Performance 7
--------------
Overall 9
Dan Baumbach
Canyon Software
1527 Fourth St. Ste 131
San Rafael, CA 94901
If you are a shareware author and would like to see your product
reviewed in this column, please contact me either via e-mail at the STTS
bulletin board, through RIME, WME, or P&BNET, or via conventional mail.
My conventional mail address is:
Russell Mirabelli
1216 Lamar Blvd E #508
Arlington, TX 76011
[255D[0;1;33m[255D
Lyrical Leanings
Copyright (c) 1993, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved
LEGACY II - A COLLECTION OF SINGER SONGWRITERS
Various Artists
High Street Records
Four years ago, High Street Records (a division of Windham Hill Records)
released LEGACY - A COLLECTION OF SINGER SONGWRITERS to a multitude of
critical praise. Unfortunately, the sales of the album didn't match the
artistic success afforded it.
LEGACY II seems to be following much the same route. Both albums are
firmly rooted in modern folk, and, sadly, folk doesn't sell well.
Nevertheless, LEGACY II follows it's predecessor in it's introduction of
mostly-unknown singer/songwriters who are the cream of the collective
folk crop. The album opens with Patty Larkin's TANGO, a highly energetic
excursion into the art of celebration. (Kind of like a birthday/kind
of like a freeway/kind of like violins/ kind of like a tango/me and
you again) the moves almost effortlessly into Ellis Paul's haunting
ASHES TO DUST. (And here I sit bewildered/staring through this pane;
the glass, it is still shattered/and everything remains unchanged.")
As the album progresses, you find yourself immersed in a world of
stories. Sad stories, stories that make you laugh, stories that make you
cry, stories that make you angry. Stories that stay with you (even haunt
you!) long after the CD has hummed into silence. In it's very essence,
LEGACY II holds true to the "legacy" of folk music, managing to both be
modern but yet hold true to the spirit of the ballad.
Arguably the best of the bunch is Cheryl Wheeler's ARROW, a song that's
been released before on two of her three solo albums. The song is at
once beautiful and sad, cutting to the very heart of all of our wishes
for love, no matter what pain we've known before. (I wish I could fall
in love/though I know it only leads to trouble, oh I know it does/
still I'd fool myself and gladly,just to feel I was/in love, in love)
Due to limited space, I haven't mentioned every song on LEGACY II.
However, every song IS worth mentioning. On the entire album, there
isn't one *bad* song. Everything is well-written and sung with practiced
precision. If you enjoy folk music,
The album ends with Nick Berry's beautiful THE GOOD LITTLE CHILDREN.
(When I die take me to the garden/Hide me in the morning air/Wrap me up
in the sheets of forgiveness/I believe I'll soon be there) A haunting,
wistful tune leaving you with the hint that there's more to come.
While you're hunting out LEGACY II (I found my copy at BORDER BOOKS AND
RECORDS; it should be available at your better music outlets) pick up a
copy of the original LEGACY. Hard as it might be to imagine after this
review, I liked that one even better.
My rating, on a scale of 1-10: 10
[255D[0;1;35m[255D
Book Reviews
Copyright (c) 1993, Jason Malandro
All rights reserved
THE THREAD THAT BINDS THE BONES
Nina Kiriki Hoffman
AvoNova Fantasy
$4.99 US, $5.99 Canada
Tom Renfield, a janitor nearly in his thirties, had been running all his
life. As a child pushed around from home to home, he'd discovered that
he had the ability to see and communicate with ghosts. Terrified of what
he didn't understand, Tom had managed to stifle his abilities for most of
his life. Living in Portland, Oregon, his life was mostly normal. (except
for the rare encounter with a wandering spirit) When forced to save the
lives of two suicidal teenagers - by literally pulling down the sky to
catch them as they flung their bodies from atop a school building - Tom
flees the publicity and goes into hiding once again.
Getting a job driving a taxi in the small rural oregon town of Arcadia,
he learns that he can't escape just who and what he is. His final fare
in the town is Laura Bolte, a fashion model returning to her home for
her brother's wedding. As with Tom, Laura's much more than at first
she appears to be.
Laura is the rebellious child of a much-feared family with great powers.
She and her kin can control the minds of normal humans, fly, levitate,
and manipulate the very fabric of reality. The family has been around for
many hundreds of years, but suddenly their numbers are decreasing. Their
home, Chapel Hollow, is not a happy place when Tom suddenly finds
himself hijacked there. Then things start to get really strange.
The Bolte's powers don't seem to work on Tom as easily as they do most
humans, and it's quickly revealed why: Tom also possesses supernatural
powers. Within the course of the first third of the book, Tom finds
himself communing with the dead (the ancient ancestors - The Powers and
Presences - of the Boltes) and, when picked by the spirits during
Laura's brother Michael's wedding, finds himself quickly wed to Laura.
THE THREAD THAT BINDS THE BONES, Nina Kiriki Hoffman's first full length
novel, is at once a romance, a modern faerie tale, and a fable. Hoffman
populates her book with a cast as varied as any novel could hope to include,
yet manages to make each their own distinct and different character.
Tom is unknowledgable in the powers that he possesses, yet seems to have
the power to overcome all others. In much the same way as a pauper might
discover that he's a prince, Tom slowly but surely learns to don the
mantle of the powers he possesses.
As the forces of good and evil take side - take note that all is not
always as it would appear - the novel builds to a crescendo that
unfortunately never quite gets adequately resolved.
In the end, though, it doesn't really matter. As the rich, vibrant
characters grow and interact with one another - as Tom and Laura truly
learn to love each other, and understand the responsibility that comes
with the powers that they've been gifted with - the plot almost becomes
secondary.
THE THREAD THAT BINDS THE BONES isn't a perfect novel, but it is a sign
of things to come. If Hoffman could so entrance and entice the reader
with her first novel.. Imagine what she could do in her second or third.
My Rating: (out of 10 points) 9
Book Reviews
Copyright (c) 1993, Heather DeRouen
All rights reserved
[255D[0;1;36m[255D
Practical Demon Keeping - A Comedy of Horrors
Christopher Moore
St. Martin's Press, 1992
In his first published novel, Christopher Moore introduces us to a motley
cast of characters. Among them is Catch the Destroyer, a demon who was
inadvertently summoned by Solomon and who has been roaming the earth trying
to satisfy his seemingly insatiable appetite for human flesh ever since.
Catch's master is Travis, a compassionate man who unwittingly had the
responsibility of trying to control Catch thrust upon him while
studying for priesthood, and who has been trying to dispose of Catch since
that time. And then there is the King of the Djinns (for more on Djinns,
see the short fiction piece authored by my talented and wonderful husband
elsewhere in this issue *smile*). Travis and the King of the Djinns are
joined by a group of mortals in the quest for the scepter of Solomon, which
possesses the power to send Catch back to the minions of Hell. Unfortunately.
the scepter has since been melted down and made into a set of candlesticks.
The characters are at once endearing, terrifying, charming, and repulsive,
and Moore's sense of humor is sick, perverted, and dark (my favorite kind
of humor). I found myself laughing out loud, which I rarely do while reading,
several times during this book. It was a tad too short, in my opinion, but
otherwise an excellent book, well worth the afternoon it takes to read it.
My score (out of a possible 10 points) - 7.7234
[255D[0;1mÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
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[1;37mÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
[255DThe Imp
Copyright (c) 1993, Ed Davis
All rights reserved
"She did it again, Sir."
"Which she, Fred. We have a rather large selection of shes around
here. And what did she do?"
"The Imp, sir. She snuck out again, with that last group."
"Good Lord!"
"He's here, sir. In Emergency Receiving. A bus load of Seventh Day
Adventist's missed a curve. Seems there were several decks of playing
cards, two very raunchy books and a fifth of scotch whiskey in the
luggage. Some of the folks wanted assurance that they had passed
through the correct gates."
The tall man ran his fingers through his wavy blonde hair and
smiled. "Boys will be boys. At least they weren't Church of God.
They would have insisted on sending the poor man elsewhere."
"It seems the luggage belonged to one of the women, sir."
"Well... I hope he's not too rough on her. He's begun to let all
the things people say about him go to his head. But then, he's young.
Maybe I'll send him back again. He could stand a bit more humility.
Do we have an opening in Watts, or Iran, or Lebanon?"
"Certainly, sir. New born or fully developed?"
"Neither, right now. But if he keeps getting a big head..."
"Yes, sir."
"In a woman's bag, you say?"
"Yes, sir."
The amused smile faded and was replaced with a more pensive look.
Fred could see that The Boss, as everyone called Him, was still
thinking about the Imp. She had done this sort of thing before and had
generated all sorts of disruptions. She had caused friction between a
king and his most trusted knight, led an army into battle, and
generally raised hob with carefully laid plans for thousands of years.
Now, in her fully actualized state, there was no telling what trouble
she would get into. Fred sat quietly, fully expecting one of the rages
that make oceans dry up and continents vanish.
The Boss frowned once and turned to leave. "She certainly is living
up to her name. This must be her ninth or tenth trip this millennia."
The frown evaporated and the world was spared.
"Did anyone get wind of her intentions before she left?"
"Her roommate said she was talking about kicking butts and taking
names, what ever that means."
"She's been reading those shoot-em-up police stories again. Well...
Don't we have a group who need a strong lesson in morality?"
"Yes, sir. We have what is called The United States of America.
They have slipped a little, here lately."
"Well, let her get settled, and remind me in a while. Maybe I can
nudge her in their direction. She takes instructions rather poorly."
"How long, before I remind you, sir?"
"Oh... a year will do. She'll be acclimated by then. What does
she look like, this time?"
"Her roommate said she was a twenty year old female, and what they
presently call a fox. In my day it was a flapper. Strange isn't it
sir, how they use such unusual names to signify beauty?"
"Just a phase, Fred. Just a phase. You certainly didn't look like
anything that flapped."
Fred flushed slightly, recalling his last trip. He had always
thought he had been a Hot Mama or at least a Tootsie. Oh well, if he
just hadn't gotten involved with that bunch of ruffians he might still
be there. Not to worry, he chided himself. You can go back, someday.
Fred ended his remembrances when The Boss turned again to leave. He
stopped at the entrance to the Dispatch and Acceptance area and
addressed the chief dispatcher again.
"Keep me posted, Fred. We don't need her shot full of holes like
you were."
Fred blushed furiously. "Only one hole, sir." He was very
sensitive about the way he had returned.
"Yes, Fred. But what good is a beautiful young woman with a big
bullet hole in her tit? You really need to be more careful."
Fred nodded. He had been so ashamed of his wounded body he had
asked for and received a complete change. The other body had been left
behind. Ashes to ashes... Fred mused.
He watched as The Boss left the area, but failed to see the
transition from handsome blonde man to rotund, dark skinned man with a
nose to rival Jimmy Durante's. The Boss took the corridor leading to
the Jewish pavilion. He didn't mind changing forms, and thankfully
these were not Orthodox Jews. Then, He would have had to put up with
an itchy beard and one of those scratchy black suits. The many
faces... and all that.
Fred was amazed as usual with The Boss's ability to juggle thousands
of problems at the same time. He had a feeling, however, that this
most recent expedition of the Imp's would try even His patience. He
returned to his work, managing the incoming and outgoing souls. The
pages of the thick book of records turned easily at his mental command.
Fred smiled his pleasure with the new system. Turning pages by hand
became a real strain after two or three hundred years. The only thing
better would require occasional service, and IBM was still only world
wide. Something for the future.
Darkness greeted The Imp. The sliver of moon did nothing to
brighten the velvet blackness of the western Maryland forest. She knew
she was standing less than a hundred yards from a major highway but was
hidden from any passing motorists. Wouldn't do, she grinned, to drop
in on these folks suddenly. They tended to group such arrivals under
the broad umbrella of Visitors From Outer Space. She smiled and
brushed a few autumn leaves from her short, auburn hair. She was
impatient to begin and strode purposefully toward the highway.
Baltimore was waiting, two hundred miles to the east.
Ronald Hall, one of the few remaining independent truckers after the
most recent round of fuel cost increases, eased his big Kenworth into a
lower gear and sat back in his seat for the slow descent of the long
grade. He didn't mind complying with the Maryland law requiring slow
speeds on mountain slopes. He had no urge to ride a sixty thousand
pound roller coaster down an eight mile plunge to disaster. He liked
living too much. His constant concern was the rising cost of fuel. He
was slowly being forced out of the trucking business. His wife,
Jennette, held a steady job and they made ends meet. They both enjoyed
the times they had together, but both wished they could travel together
all the time. Their children were grown and they had planned a life of
contented wandering wherever the loads took them. His frustration grew
with each passing month, as the cost of fuel crept ever higher.
"Be thankful we're healthy and the kids are doing well. Our time
will come." Jennette would say. Her words soothed him, but each time
he refueled he cursed the circumstances that kept them apart.
The high beams probed the darkness and suddenly illuminated the form
of a young woman standing alongside the road. She was waving, as if
she knew his truck.
"Where did you come from, little lady?" Ron asked the distant
figure, as he applied his air brakes and eased onto the shoulder of the
road.
The Imp climbed onto the big truck and smiled through the open
window. "Thanks for stopping. I got dropped a little way back and
need a lift."
"Come on in. I'm goin' to Hagerstown. Where you headed?"
"Baltimore, but I can catch a bus out of Hagerstown."
Conversation flowed easily, as miles slid under the truck. The Imp
learned first hand that Ron Hall was a good man. He had not ignored
the fact that her jump suit fit like a second skin, or that she was a
well developed woman. Her good looks and deeply exposed cleavage
simply did not tempt him. The thought crossed his mind and The Imp
almost blushed when she read his thoughts. He decided that he wouldn't
risk hurting Jennette over a quickie on a Maryland mountainside. She
sure looked good, though.
Hagerstown, nearly as dark at two in the morning as the forest she
had left three hours before, marked their reluctant parting. He shook
her hand and wished her well.
"Thanks for the lift, Ron. And for the good wishes. I'm sure
you'll find a way to start traveling with your wife, real soon."
"Well, that's real sweet. You just be careful in Baltimore. There
are some mighty ugly people there."
"I'll be fine. My Father taught me some special tricks."
The young woman smiled and stepped down from the truck. The middle
aged man felt his smile lingering longer than he expected. She was
that kind of person, made people want to smile.
From his driver's seat, Ron could not see the tiny trickle coming
from the passenger side fuel tank. The Imp had been a little careless
when she ordered the tank to keep itself full from now on. It was her
first effort at interference in many years. The Kenworth seemed to
sparkle, as it passed under a street lamp and two small dents in the
left fender popped out. The Imp smiled at her handiwork and waved to
the man and his air horn. She knew he would accept her gift and begin
to travel with his wife. She was glad. They would only have three
years. The Boss had plans for them. They had discussed the idea of
giving the two good people a short period of mortal pleasure, when they
had planned her trip. Everyone knew He worked in many mysterious ways,
they just did not know how well planned the mysteries were.
A teenager, cruising the darkened streets way beyond what should
have been his bed time, honked his horn at the image of feminine
abundance. His horn relay fused and within minutes a police officer
had him pulled over and answering some very pointed questions about his
breath and the late hour.
The Imp walked the three blocks to the small Greyhound station and
bought a ticket. She rested on one of the wooden benches and feigned
sleep, hoping to snare a mugger or purse snatcher. Her efforts were
wasted. Hagerstown was too small for a full-time mugger.
Baltimore, like all large cities, was both modern and aged. The
wealthy lived in the new and shining parts, while the poor eked out
their existences in the battered sections. There was a common ground,
however, based on a white powder, pills of various colors, and a green
weed like substance.
Vincent Cararro, one time supplicant to J. Edgar Hoover's
organization, was the pivot point around which the major sales of
certain substances were hinged. He had decided years earlier that
being on one side of the law was the only way to live. He had simply
changed sides. He gave up his quest to be an agent for the F.B.I.,
when he discovered the wealth waiting in the sale of certain powders,
tablets, and grasses. His beginnings were humble but he soon became
another American success story.
Vinny worked the streets for two years while building his customer
list and the staff he needed to feed their demands. He risked
everything on one gigantic purchase, betting on the greed of his
suppliers. His demand to meet The Man was eased by the size of the
purchase. Besides, The Man liked to see youngsters with the courage to
improve themselves. The initial meeting led to more encounters and
eventually to Vinny meeting The Man's family. Marriage into the Family
was almost predetermined. Margerete was attractive and undemanding.
Vinny still had the freedom to visit his girls. He stayed away from
the house her father had given them, for days at a time. Life was
good. Vinny bought his drugs at a fraction of the street price and
sold them to local businessmen for thousands of dollars. The quality
of the women he visited improved and his clothes reflected the latest
fashion. He never missed a Sunday in church. He and Margerete were
front row Catholics, she constantly and he at least on Sundays and
holidays. Vinny was content.
Outside the Greyhound station, a pimp, black of skin and slow of
wit, invited The Imp to "See Baltimore with Me, Baby." She agreed,
needing time to get accustomed to the streets and the feel of the city
after having just arrived. The glossy Cadillac, its chrome sparkling
in overabundance, moved through the streets like a well fed lion.
The Imp listened to the ages old pitch the pimp was making and
nodded at the appropriate places. He was practically beaming at his
good fortune. With this one he moved out of the twenty dollar a toss
bracket, into the world of three or four hundred dollar tricks. She
was a smooth piece of material and looked green as grass. She was
speechless with all the big city wonders he was flashing on her. Now
all he needed was a good meal inside her belly and him in her drawers.
Tomorrow or the next day she would be anxious to help him. His fantasy
knew no limits.
"How about if we eat, Baby?"
"Certainly."
"You gonna' need a place to stay, got enough bread?"
The Imp nodded.
The pimp flinched. He liked the ones who showed up broke. They
were easier. This one might be tougher, but she was worth the effort.
"Why not save your cash, Baby, and spend the night with me?"
"I wouldn't want to put you out. You might not have room for the
two of us."
"No Baby. I got lots of room. You can have your own room, even. I
got anything else you might need, too."
"Well...O.K. But, only if your sure you are ready for what might
happen."
"Baby, you won't be no problem at all and what ever you wanna' do is
fine with me."
The Cadillac swerved into the left hand lane and the pimp rushed
toward his apartment. He would eat after he had a chance to get this
one in bed. She seemed more than ready. The screech of tires signaled
their arrival.
The apartment was small and contained one bedroom.
"Where is the room you promised me?"
"Right there, with me to keep away the cold."
The air in the shabby room seemed to crackle for an instant and the
pimp wondered what was going on. He could smell the ozone in the air,
as he moved his hands to his ears, against the sudden noise. He felt
much more hair than he should have. He looked into the cracked mirror
over the mantle and nearly fainted. The face of a woman looked back,
an unbelievably ugly woman. The face followed all the moves he made.
That ugly broad in the mirror was him. He jerked his head back toward
the woman he was planning to seduce and found the room empty. He
searched the apartment. He was alone. He stripped, having difficulty
with the unfamiliar buttons and snaps. He looked down toward his toes
and saw breasts, if anything that baggy and small could count as
breasts. The belly below the first discovery was fully rounded, in
fact looked uncomfortably pregnant. But pregnancy bulged a woman's
belly and this mass of wrinkles was far from smooth. The legs holding
the hideous mass erect were like black pipe cleaners. The pimp rushed
to the bath room to view the entire mess in the full length mirror.
He recognized the lunch he had eaten earlier, as he flushed the
results of his sudden sickness. He was still himself, inside.
Whatever the hell that meant. Except now he looked like a fifty cent
chippy from the Grey Panther gatherings in the park. "Oh God, what did
I do?"
"It wasn't me. Ask The Imp."
The pimp didn't hear the reply, she was busy being sick again.
The Imp walked down the street smiling and singing a line from Peace
In The Valley. "...and I'll be changed, changed from this fool that I
am."
Monday dawned soft and warm. Vincent Cararro drive his burgundy
Lincoln Continental carefully and headed for his office. He nodded and
waved to his neighbors and friends in the plush suburb where his wife
and children lived. He still preferred the spicier flavor of the
streets. He disliked the tiny tit and tight ass attitude of the people
who lived behind the stone walls of their palatial estates. He slowed
for the light at the corner of Barthalemew and Walden and watched with
mild interest as the sleek looking woman walked across Walden. Her
full figure was accentuated by the plunging neckline of her shimmering
jumpsuit. No tiny tits there. Her full breasts moved with a
sensuousness that turned his mild interest into the beginnings of an
erection. He was startled, when the car behind him honked with
impatience. He jerked forward awkwardly and raced down Walden to the
first turnaround. Tires screeched and several people wondered why Mr.
Cararro would behave in such an uncouth manner. The Lincoln dashed
back to the intersection to find the startling vision of femininity
walking down Walden. Vinny muttered a silent prayer that no one else
would pick her up, and waited impatiently for the light to allow him
access to the road he had just traversed.
"Need a ride, Miss?"
The Imp looked him over, she wanted to be sure she had the right
man. Lots of people in the area drove maroon Lincolns. He looked like
the images she had seen yesterday and his sleek smile looked like he
needed a lesson even if he were the wrong one. She was not, after all,
on a strict schedule. She smiled and leaned down, affording Vinny an
even better view of her unzipped cleavage.
"I wouldn't want to put you out of your way."
"No problem, where are you headed?"
"Downtown. I'm looking for work."
"Climb in, I'll have you there in no time."
The Imp opened the door and slid into the plush interior. Her arm
touched his on the armrest and neither of them moved to break the
contact.
"What sort of work do you do?"
"Model. At least that's what I did back in Omaha."
"You been in town long?"
"Just got in. Haven't even found a place to stay yet."
Vinny smiled like an undertaker who was witnessing a seventeen car
pile up. He knew this was going to be a good day.
"I might be able to help you with both problems. I have friends in
the modeling world and my company manages a lot of apartments. Why
don't you come along with me and let me see what I can do?"
"That sounds like a lot of bother for you. I don't want to put you
to all the trouble."
"No trouble. In fact, I insist. You can rent one of the apartments
we manage and if you find a job, we can celebrate together. Unless, of
course, you have friends in town."
"No. No friends here. In fact, you are only the second person I've
met in this big place. The first was not the best experience for me.
I hope you're more sincere and more of a gentleman then he was."
"My intentions are nothing but honorable. An apartment and a job
and you can go your own way. Unless, of course, you decide to let me
help you celebrate."
Traffic built and driving took Vinny out of the conversation mood.
He despised the traffic and would have worked at home, if his wife
hadn't been there. He went into the office only to keep up a front for
neighbors and the Internal Revenue Service. He also had three
secretaries who helped distract him when he was bored.
Like a roller coaster, the streamlined Lincoln dove into the
darkness that signaled a parking garage. The narrow passageway led to
a stall marked V. Cararro. Vinny pulled smoothly into the parking
place and switched off the engine. He turned to the young woman and
smiled. "Shall we go up?"
"I suppose so, I really don't want you to be put out."
"That is silly. I'm glad to help a stranger to town."
Three hours later, with only a small nudge from Vinny, two modeling
agencies wanted to use her and one apartment house had a new resident.
The Cararro's approval was enough to get her started. The apartment
manager had taken Vinny's word for a deposit and she was ready to move
into a furnished apartment. Suddenly, Vincent was the focus of her
life.
Lunch time became a celebration that he promised was only the
beginning. They ate and drank and laughed. They were both pleased
with the way things were moving.
The Imp, Madeline Warren to the apartment manager, looked down on
the bed and the boxes she had just dropped there. Vinny had insisted
that she buy some clothes so they could dress in style for their up
coming evening. He escorted her to several very posh shops and helped
her select a red dress that looked like spray paint on her full figured
body. The underthings and the shoes were quite ordinary, expensive but
normal. She would be dressed in the height of fashion and be escorted
by a man who was as handsome as he was rotten.
The Imp walked out of the bathroom and was confronted by a huge
bottle of champagne and Vinny. Wrapped in a towel, she was a vision of
feminine abundance. The small sprinkling of freckles across her
shoulders and the tops of her full breasts were frosting on the
delicate paleness of her skin.
Unflustered, she continued drying her hair with one corner of her
towel. "Well, this is a surprise, Mr. Cararro. We had a date for
eight and it can't be later than six thirty. As you can see, I'm not
ready to leave."
Vincent smiled. "I was hoping we were beyond Mr. Cararro. My
friends call me Vinny. I wish you would."
"Perhaps later. Right now I want to get dressed and fix my hair.
You will have to leave."
"I could wait out there," Vinny nodded toward the living room.
The Imp shook her head.
Vinny left, the apartment door slamming.
The evening was a whirl of pleasant sensations. Excellent food and
drink, followed by three nightclubs with animated dancers, breath
stealing comedy, and a sensuous stage show to close the evening. The
stage show would have been pornographic in Omaha, but in Baltimore it
was only stimulating. The Imp knew Vinny was much more stimulated than
she, despite his hope that the opposite would be true.
The Imp accepted a kiss at her door and would allow no further
imprecations from the aroused man. She wanted him thinking about
nothing but his passion.
With two weeks of modeling in daylight and fending off Vinny's
advances during the dark hours, The Imp brought Vincent Cararro to a
full boil.
She knew that this was the night. She dressed with special care and
waited for his distinctive knock. A soft smile marked her face. She
was enjoying the tenseness she had watched growing along with the
passion.
On the mark of eight, Vinny rapped his knuckles on the white painted
panel of her door. He stood admiring the new manicure he had just
gotten and waiting for her to answer. Tonight, he promised to himself.
Tonight you loose those fancy drawers, Babe. Better get ready to
enjoy. His visions of the evening's pleasures brought a sinister smile
to his lips.
The Imp opened the door and smiled to her ardent suitor.
"Good to see you, Vinny."
Vincent stalked into the apartment, deciding in that instant to try
the strong man routine since his gentle approach had failed. He fitted
a look of restrained fury on his face and turned to the wonderfully
sexy creature before him.
"You've driven me to a difficult situation. I have been patient and
waited for you. Tonight we will be together, or I'll be obliged to
make some phone calls and withdraw my support for your modeling work
and this apartment."
Vinny waited for her reply. He knew she liked the good life they
had been sampling so fully for the last weeks.
Wordlessly, The Imp reached behind her and slowly unzipped her
dress. The hiss of the zipper erased the lines of ferocity from the
angry man's face and magically replaced them with a smile. Vinny began
removing his jacket and never took his eyes from the fantastic form
being revealed before him. His excitement swelled the front of his
trousers. That reaction seemed to stimulate him even more.
The Imp had indeed dressed with special care. She stood before the
man clad only in a skimpy pair of panties, a pair of almost transparent
hose and a garter belt that matched her panties. Her swelling breasts
were the focus of the now perspiring man before her.
"Is this what you want, Vincent Cararro?"
"Yes. Dear God, yes. I want you more than anything in the world."
"Well, at least get out of that ruffled shirt."
Vinny peeled the shirt from his sweating body so swiftly that
several buttons popped off onto the floor and rolled under a chair.
"I've waited for you, ever since I met you."
"Well, before you get me I want something too."
"What? What do you want, money?"
"Of course not. I want the list of people you sell drugs to."
Vincent felt his erection stop growing, he felt his slacks relax
back down to their normal drape. This was a bizarre situation, one
that should have no place between a woman who was nearly naked and a
man who was swelling with desire. What the hell did she need with a
list of his customers? Forget her list, what she needed was a few
hours in a big bed.
"Why don't we talk about that later?"
Vinny felt himself leave the floor. He hadn't jumped, the floor had
simply moved out from under his feet. The woman was still on the
floor. He was several feet above the carpeting, in a room that smelled
faintly like there had been a rainstorm inside the apartment.
"What the hell... What's going on?"
"When I get the list you can come back down."
"Why?"
"My business. Are you ready to give me the list.?"
"Not this life time."
The words were the last thing to pass through his lips, going out or
coming in. He grasped his throat and began writhing almost instantly.
Within a minute his actions were frantic. His supply of oxygen was
gone and what little he had held in his lungs was nearly used up.
The Imp waited patiently.
Frantically, Vinny nodded his wordless willingness.
The Imp allowed him to breathe and restated her demand.
"There is a book, in my jacket pocket. The names are there. But
they are all untouchable."
"Not from me. You'll descend in ten minutes. Do not endeavor to
follow me or find me. If you do I'll make you the most miserable man
since Job. I would advise you to find a more respectable occupation,
Mr. Cararro. I'll be watching."
Speechless, Vinny watched while the sultry looking woman slipped
into the skin tight jumpsuit she had been wearing when he first met
her. She left the front zipper enticingly low and left the room.
Vinny watched the clock on the mantle click off the minutes and was
waiting as his feet gently returned to the floor. He dashed to the
telephone and began calling his drug customers.
After the third call, Vinny realized his mistake. He had told the
people that someone, possibly connected with the law, had the names of
all his customers. Two of the customers were suddenly terse in their
replies and hung up. The third one promised to get Vinny and left the
phone off the hook.
Vincent Cararro died in a fiery explosion two weeks later. The
police bomb experts said that there must have been twenty sticks of
dynamite planted in the car. They were confused, however; they could
not figure why the second and third bomb had not detonated. The
investigation was narrowing the list of suspects and they expected an
arrest shortly. None of the reporters believed a thing about the press
release, except the part about the other bombs.
Nearly two hundred doctors, lawyers and prominent business men left
Baltimore, committed suicide, or died from natural causes in the weeks
following Vinny's death. Life insurance company computers discarded
the data of these deaths, they all seemed unnatural, despite the police
reports. Claims went unpaid and unchallenged in the courts. Drug
addicts in Baltimore are still having difficulty getting drugs. Many
moved away, some reformed, and some died from the agonies of
withdrawal. White powder, other than Domino sugar, was very scarce at
the parties of the affluent.
The only person who noticed The Imp when she left was a trucker who
picked up a beautiful woman on The Beltway. She needed a lift to
Washington. He carried her to the outskirts of the capital city and
continued toward Virginia and the son whom he discovered was suddenly
cured of the leukemia that had been eating him alive. The trucker was
already one of the faithful at his small church and credited the
recovery with his prayers. He may have been right.
The Imp was last seen walking into Washington, D.C. smiling and
humming. She was obviously looking forward to her next tasks.
Fred looked up from his book and noticed that The Boss seemed
happier than usual. He was pleased that The Boss derived joy from the
few glimmers of hope coming from Earth. There seemed to be a few more
souls returning as well. No matter, Fred mused. There's room for
everyone.
[255D[0;1;33m[255D
The Late Mr. Wilson
Copyright (c) 1992, John Chambers
All rights reserved
Fred Wilson brought the car to a screeching halt in front of
the hospital. He jumped out of the driver's side door and ran
around to help Mrs. Wilson out of the car. While doing all of
this running, he was also waving his arms toward an attendant
with a wheel chair.
"Over here!", Fred called to the hospital attendant. The man
with the wheel chair came rushing over toward the Wilson's car.
"Geez Fred," said Louise Wilson, "I'm not even having labor
pains yet. They're going to have to induce labor. There's no
rush."
Fred beamed at Louise and helped her into the wheel chair.
"I know," he said, "but the situation calls for it. This is our
first child, even if it is 3 weeks late."
Fred was right. The doctors said that she should have given
birth in mid-December, and today was January 6th. The doctor was
going to induce labor today to speed along the birth of their
first child.
Arthur Wilson, a happy and healthy baby boy, came into the
world on January 7th. He had a minor respiratory problem at birth
and had to stay an extra day in the hospital, but otherwise he
was just fine.
Everyone who saw Arthur said that he was a delightful child.
He never got into trouble, didn't cry very often, and was a well
behaved and happy baby. This proved to be true as Arthur grew
older, started to walk, and started talking. He reached these
childhood milestones a bit later than others, but he was such a
wonderful child that it didn't matter.
The only problem that Fred and Louise ever noticed was
little Arthur's tardiness; he could never get anywhere on time.
Something always came up just as the Wilsons were ready to leave
in the car, have dinner, or go for a walk. Arthur would always
forget his teddy bear and have to go back for it, or have to go
potty, or change his shirt. It was an annoying little problem,
but since Arthur was such a wonderful child, it was easily
overlooked.
Arthur Wilson was late for his first day of school. He had
forgotten the crayons his mother bought for him and had to go
back into the house to get them. Once in the house, he had to go
to the bathroom. On his second day of school, Arthur forgot his
lunch money and had to run back home to retrieve it, so he was
late again.
Although Fred and Louise Wilson didn't know it at the time,
this was to be a lifelong problem for Arthur. He was late to
school almost every day. He was late both going to recess and
returning to class. He was late for lunch, late for dinner, and
late to go play outside.
When he was going to the playground for a baseball game with
his friends, he would forget his glove. "Hey, wait up guys!" he
would yell. The next day he would forget to wear a belt. His
friends would see Arthur turning for home and tugging at his
pants while screaming, "Hey, wait up guys!"
He was known as "Wait Up" Wilson to all of the boys and
girls in the neighborhood, and whenever the children would go off
to play, one would hear little laughs and giggles and one little
voice saying, "Hey, wait up!"
Arthur's problem was never a bother to most people. He was
such a likeable person that almost everyone overlooked this
little quirk. He was very intelligent and made good grades in
school, he was always available to help others, and he always had
a beautiful smile. It was really difficult to get mad at Arthur.
The Army was one of the exceptions to this rule. They didn't
like Arthur being late for things. Arthur was drafted into the
Army in 1966, but reported late because he had gotten lost in
Oakland. Though Arthur was always late for things, he did
excellent work. His superiors liked the way he performed, and his
attitude. Most of the time they just put Arthur on K.P. as
punishment, so Arthur spent much of his time peeling potatoes.
Being late was not always bad for Arthur. While his squad
was on patrol in Vietnam, Arthur fell behind to lace his boot.
In this instance, Arthur decided not to yell his usual, "Wait up,
guys!" As it so happened, a North Vietnamese patrol was just
ahead. The entire squad unknowingly walked into an ambush while
Arthur was lacing his boot. Arthur, late as usual, came up behind
the enemy soldiers and rescued his squad. He was later awarded
the Bronze Star medal for his actions.
Much later in life, Arthur missed a plane to an important
meeting in Dallas. Lady Luck once again shed her light on Arthur
- the plane crashed upon landing, killing all those aboard.
Arthur married Joyce Bentner when he was twenty-eight. He
was, of course, a bit late for the wedding. Joyce tried for years
to get Arthur where he needed to be at the correct time, but was
always
foiled in her attempts. She and Arthur got along very well
together, and loved each other very much.
Throughout his lifetime, Arthur remained a very popular
fellow. He was successful in business ventures most of the time,
and earned a good living as an inventor and businessman. He
missed several opportunities to make large amounts of money in
the stock market because the stock would be over-priced by the
time he got ready to make his move. On the other hand, Arthur
would often fail to buy a "hot" new stock when everyone else was
buying, and would be safe when it came crashing down. When the
hula-hoop craze hit the country Arthur decided to jump in and
make a profit. He was late as usual, and ended up with 2
warehouses filled with useless toys when the craze abruptly
ended.
Arthur made his mark on the world when he was in his
fifties. After many years of research, he patented a new type of
shoe sole for use on running and athletic shoes. Arthur was
always running to catch up, so it was only fitting that he
invented this particular item. The invention caught on quickly,
and he constantly received royalty checks for the use of his
patent. Arthur was finally financially secure enough to take a
long awaited two-week cruise.
Arthur and Joyce enjoyed their cruise very much. The
relaxation of the open sea, the fancy dinners, and the joyous
atmosphere was a wonderful break for them both. For ten days they
cruised the Caribbean, visiting many wonderful ports and having a
great time.
On the eleventh day they were heading to port in Saint
Thomas when the skies became very dark. A tropical storm was
rapidly approaching, and the Captain of the ship immediately
began to head for a safe port. Unfortunately, the cruise ship ran
aground while trying to make port, and a large hole opened in her
side. With the ship quickly filling with water, the Captain
ordered all hands to the lifeboats. The passengers had been
through several of these drills, and the rescue was proceeding
smoothly - except for Arthur. Once again, Arthur was late.
A deck hand finally forced Joyce into a life boat, and she saw
poor Arthur stumbling around the decks of the cruise ship
yelling, "Wait up!" Just at that moment, a huge wave swallowed
the decks of the ship. The life boats were shoved out into the
sea, and Arthur Wilson was taken prisoner by the ocean.
They located his body two days later. Joyce Wilson was
distraught and tearful at the loss of Arthur, but bravely headed
back home to make the proper arrangements. She left complete
instructions for shipping Arthur's remains back home, and set the
funeral for the following Wednesday.
On Tuesday, the day before the funeral, Joyce discovered
that the body had been delayed in shipping. Arthur's remains
would not arrive until Wednesday morning, and this would not
allow enough time for the funeral personnel to prepare the body.
Joyce re-scheduled the funeral for Thursday.
Thursday morning services were held in the funeral home, and
many of Arthur's friends gave him glowing testimony. It was a
very tender and moving service, and everyone was very sad. When
the service was over, the funeral party climbed into long black
limousines and began the slow, somber journey to the grave site.
Along the way to the cemetery, the hearse which carried
Arthur's body suffered from an untimely flat tire. The driver
immediately jumped from the hearse and waved the other cars on
toward the cemetery, then began to busily replace the flat tire.
At the grave site, the local reverend gave Arthur his final
rites, and said a few carefully selected last words about the
late Mr. Wilson.
Joyce Wilson peered sadly into the open and empty grave,
then tilted her head up just in time to spot the rapidly
approaching hearse which carried Arthur.
"Damn. Wouldn't you know it," she said. "He's late for his
own funeral."
[255D[0;1;31m[255D
Memoirs of a Reluctant Vampire
Copyright (c) 1993, Robert McKay
All rights reserved
You've seen Dracula, right? Or at least you've picked up
something loosely based on the movie - white skin, pointed hairline,
funny accent, red-lined cape. I mean, the movie came out in 1931, and
only the late-night TV junkies ever actually see it any more. At any
rate, you think you know about vampires. You know, they bite beautiful
women in the neck, they stalk around with dry ice fog swirling through
their legs, they talk funny, they stand out in a crowd of normal people
the way a nine-foot glob of purple from the Foobaw galaxy would. Uh-
huh. Well, just sit still and learn better.
You see, I'm a vampire. Yeah, me, with the weak chin and Coke-
bottle glasses and flannel shirt. I've never even been to Europe, and
for sure I'm not from Transylvania. And I don't go around leaving neat
little punctures in he necks of Miss America contestants. You think
they'd ever let me get near that kind of lady? Hardly.
I've been vamping about 10 years now. I was kind of getting
through college when I got into it. I wasn't that good at college, but
I was even worse at getting any kind of job that I liked, so why not be
a professional student. At least that way I could keep up with all the
trendy things to be for and against. I mean, who wants to protest
against something that nobody hates. It just doesn't do much for the
ego to be the only one out there with a picket.
Anyway, I was out late one night at the Pizza Pan. I used to like
the stuff, you know, with a lot of cheese and everything thrown on.
The deep pan pizza. No thin crust for me - give me something to chew
on. Anyway, I was headed back to the dorm that night, and out of the
alley comes this - well, this raggedy guy. I don't know how else to
put it. He just kind of ambled out of the alley like he was out for a
midnight stroll or something. I didn't pay him any particular
attention. I mean, this is a college town, for pete's sake. There's
worse things running around all the time. You ought to see the kind of
human debris that's left behind by a keg party. Well, I crossed in
front of him, and he grabbed me.
His arm came around my neck, and believe me, there's one part of
the vampire myth that's true - we're awfully strong. I couldn't get
any air, and though I struggled as hard as I could this guy just lifted
me up with his arm under my chin and carried me into the alley as easy
as you please. He took me back in the bushes, bopped me on the head
with something - a rock, I guess - and while I lay their woozy and not
quite sure what day of the week it was, he hauled out this Swiss Army
knife, for pete's sake, and gashed me on the neck. Brother it hurt.
And he leaned down, holding my shoulders on the damp ground, and sucked
on my neck. Yeah, the mother of all hickies, right?
I passed out along in there somewhere, and when I came to he was
gone. My neck felt like it'd been drug over a barb wire fence, but I
sure was surprised when instead of the cut I should have had there was
nothing but a scar. It's gone now; I guess a vampire bite that turns
you heals pretty good. Anyway, that one isn't there any more.
I managed to get under way again, and muddled through the
semester, but by the time spring break came I knew I couldn't get
through any more. I was getting real sensitive to light, especially
sunlight. I couldn't sleep at night or stay awake during the day, and
my appetite was falling off something awful. By the time the semester
was over, I had gotten down to a meal a day, and sometimes even that
slipped by without any notice from me. I couldn't figure it out.
Until one day I cut my finger, and without thinking I slipped it into
my mouth - and that's something that would have turned my stomach any
other time. Ten minutes later I realized that I was curled on the
bathroom floor, my finger jammed into my mouth, and craving blood like
I'd never craved anything in my life. Somewhere in that semester I'd
turned - I'd went from human to vampire.
Well, it's not any kind of heaven. Oh, I don't mind the hours so
much, and while the food may not appeal to you it's all I want. But
the trouble of getting something to eat is like nothing you've ever
seen. Not many people will just sit still while you make like the Red
Cross and take a pint. Generally I'm stuck with the dregs - you know,
winos (and you can get drunk off of a wino, believe me), hookers,
addicts (and that's a bad trip if you're not careful), bums, that kind
of thing. No beautiful ladies here, mate. Miss America doesn't come
around me, and as for counts and the other aristocracy, I guess they'll
never invite me to a fancy party with lots of necks just waiting to be
bitten.
I've got some fangs, if you want to call 'em that. Here, have a
look. Not so much, are they? They'll nick the skin some, but I'm no
vampire bat - I can't live on blood that just kind of oozes out and
lays there. I need something that flows, you know? So I carry a
pocket knife - yeah, just like the guy that got me - and when I need a
drink, and I can find someone to tap, I use that to open 'em up. Real
elegant, ain't it?
Well, I suppose you've got to be going. I guess I've bored you.
You sure don't look like someone who plans to spend the night. In
fact, you color's not so hot. Are you sure you feel all right? Hey,
stay a bit. In fact, I think I'd like some supper, if it's all right
with you.
[255D[0;1;35m[255D
Djiin! I Win!
Copyright (c) 1993, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved
Only a few years ago, in a land not that unlike the one we live in
now, there dwelled a djiini. He wasn't a particularly powerful Djiini,
nor was he particularly clever. Admitting that he wasn't very handsome
either shouldn't come as much of a surprise. Nevertheless, for all the
Djiini's shortcomings, it is with him that our tale begins. . . .
and ultimately ends.
"So. You like to play games do you, Wesley?" Asked the prime Djiin,
as Wesley stood, shackled in chains, before a jury of his peers.
"Offering a thousand wishes where one would do, simply to cause the
bearer of your 'good tidings' mischief." Intoned the Master Djiin, legs
crossed, dressed in the finest Arabian costuming, floating above the
proceedings.
"I.." Began Wesley, already knowing it was of no use to
deny any of the charges. He was being brought up on fraud, libel, and
misrepresentation of goods. Not to mention that speeding ticket..
"And how do you plead?" Bellowed the judge, breaking Wesley's
thought pattern. (which, looking at it objectively, wasn't that hard of
a thing to do..)
"Er.. Well.. I didn't MEAN.."
"We all know exactly what you did and didn't MEAN to do, Wesley.
Your penchant for practical jokes has gone a bit too far this time. We
overlooked it when you changed that storekeeper into a dictator. We
managed to change the mess that you created when you gave the three
wishes to the 'touched' child. We even let that girl's wish of 'a dozen
of everything' squeak by. But granting that Quayle kid's wish for a
'really, really, really important job'.... that.. is... it!!"
Wesley seemed to shrink in on himself, as he studied the jeering
faces of his peers. They had never liked him anyway. So what if he
wasn't all that powerful? So what if he wasn't all that bright, either?
At least he was handsome, he told himself, though, upon later reflection
(namely, a nearby mirror) he had to admit that even that wasn't true.
Wesley sighed to himself, breathing deep. He was a failure. Period.
The only bright spot on his otherwise flawed career as a Djiini was his
creativity. And he had turned that into a excuse for practical jokes.
"Wesley.." Sighed the judge, getting impatient. "We haven't all
day. Plead, and let's get on with it."
Seeing his cue, Wesley fell to his knees, hands clutched in seeming
prayer before his chest, "Please, please, master. Spare me!"
"Wesley! Plead, as in your case!!" Looking sheepishly at the
judge, he rose to his feet, dusting himself off. Humor wouldn't work.
Not this time. If he had just played the wishes straight with that
Quayle fellow.. Sighing yet again, Wesley steeled himself for the worse.
It was now or never, he thought. He'd play this one straight. He'd admit
to his lack of ethics, apologize to the council, take his punishment,
and be on with it.
"Wesley?"
"I.... Well, to be perfectly honest your Royal Exalted Supreme
Highness Sir.. It really wasn't my fault. You see, it all started when..."
"GUILTY!"
* * *
And thus the verdict was announced, and the sentence laid upon the
quivering bulk of mass that called itself Wesley the Djiini. His
sentence was this; he would continue to receive assignments to various
bottles, lamps, and accordions around the universe. He would continue to
grant three wishes to a customer, and he would continue to have full
privileges and benefits (including membership to Sal's All-You-Can-Eat
Indian Beef Bar-B-Q) befitting his status in the Guild of the Djiin.
And where was the punishment in all of this, you may ask?
The punishment lay not in what Wesley could no longer do (for, as
stated above, none of his privileges were stripped) but in the penalty
of assigned duties. Yes, Wesley could (and would) continue to grant
three wishes to a customer. However, for the next 1,000 years, the
wishes that he could grant now had certain guidelines and rules. He had
to inform the wishers implicitly of the limits and guidelines thereof,
BEFORE granting the wishes. Those three wishes were structured just so:
FIRST WISH
* This wish can be used for anything, with the exception of wishing
for more wishes
SECOND WISH
* This wish must be made for someone else, not benefiting himself,
and must not harm the other person in any known way
THIRD WISH
* The third wish is rather limited. If the participant is happy
with his results, he may wish for Wesley to be rewarded for his
good deeds. (and indeed he will - with one day taken off his
sentence) If, however, the receiver of the wishes is dissatisfied
in any way, shape, or form, the recipient can wish that all of
what he wished for was instead bestowed upon Wesley
Through the wisdom and understanding of the ancient Master Djiin,
peace was restored to the universe at large. Wesley slowly learned to
curb his practical joking. All was right with the world again. At least
for awhile.
You see, even Master Djiin's make the occasional mistake. When one
wishes for the wisdom of Solomon, the strength of Samson, and the rugged
beauty of Mel Gibson (and, yes, that can be all one wish, worded
correctly) and wishes for his girlfriend to get that job promotion that
she'd been wanting (and, unlikely as it all may seem, his girlfriend is
secretly a Djiini running against the Master Djiin for office of His
Royal Majesty Highness Djiin)... Well, that can cause trouble.
Especially when, after breaking up with her, he wishes he had never
wished for any of it and decides to wish that all the wishes had
happened to poor Wesley instead...
Poor Wesley, indeed.
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[1;37mÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
[255DStrength
Copyright (c) 1992, Tamara
All rights reserved
In the Temple darkness
lies the shadow of a smile
Dreaming my world
into existance
with the existance
of his dreams
belief, hope, trust and care
weaves a fabric true and whole
to know, to will, to dare
to be naked before all
reveals a strength of character
by nature
within, the courage to be
wild and joyful, confident and free
Spontaneous revelation
empowers the lion-hearted
to know the god within himself
and above all
to love.
Written 12/21/92 by Tamara (c) 1992 for bear
Strength has many facets.....as do you.
[255D[0;1;33m[255D
A Sunny Afternoon in the Garden
Copyright (c) 1992, Lucia Chambers
All rights reserved
The hops snore a tranquil fragrance
unmindful of the bees slowing, to sleep
while queen clematis tucks her tendrils
round that sleeping giant's knees.
Beetles clamber rosebud newts and chew,
intoxicating tea! their jaws slacken;
a slow climb from below, the preying mantis plots
careful maneuvers through thorny bracken.
Butterflies delight in cosmos' open arms,
that daisy beckons neurotic fluttering to stop
to drink nectar and rest warmly on polleny pillows
while wings bask proudly on pink petal-tops.
While the gardener sleeps beyond the fountain
(charming watery noises lulling her to doze)
the squirrels raid the birdseed, but her dreams
exclude garden disasters: she is thinking of a rose.
[255D[40m
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°±²[44mÛ²±°[34;42m²±° [1;33m°±²[43mÛ²±°[0;33;41mÛ²±°[31;40mÛ²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û[33;41m°±²Û[1;43m°±²Û[42m²±° [0;34;42m°±²Û[35;44m°±²Û[40m²±°
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°±²[44mÛ²±°[34;42m²±° [1;33m°±²[43mÛ²±°[0;33;41mÛ²±°[31;40mÛ²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û[33;41m°±²Û[1;43m°±²Û[42m²±° [0;34;42m°±²Û[35;44m°±²Û[40m²±°
°±²[44mÛ²±°[34;42m²±° [1;33m°±²[43mÛ²±°[0;33;41mÛ²±°[31;40mÛ²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û[33;41m°±²Û[1;43m°±²Û[42m²±° [0;34;42m°±²Û[35;44m°±²Û[40m²±°
[1;37mÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
[255D
There are several different ways to get STTS magazine.
SysOps:
Contact me via any of the addresses listed in CONTACT POINTS listed
elsewhere in this issue. Just drop me a note telling me your name,
city, state, your BBS's name, it's phone number and it's baud rate, and
where you'll be getting STTS from each month. If your BBS carries RIME,
Pen & Brush Network, or you have access to the InterNet, I can put you
on the STTS mailing list to receive the magazine free of charge each
month. If you have access to FIDO, you can file request the magazine.
If you don't have access to any of these services - or do but don't
wish to use this option - you can call any of the BBS's listed in
DISTRIBUTION SITES and download the new issue each month. In either
case contact me so that I can put your BBS in the dist. site list for
the next issue of the magazine.
(Refer to DISTRIBUTION VIA NETWORKS for more detailed information about
the nets)
Users:
You can download STTS each month from any of the BBS's mentioned in
DISTRIBUTION SITES elsewhere in this issue. If your local BBS isn't
listed, pester and cajole your SysOp to "subscribe" to STTS for you.
If you haven't any other way of receiving the magazine each month, a
monthly disk subscription (sent out via US Mail) is available for $
20.00 per year. Foreign subscriptions are $ 25.00 (american dollars).
Subscriptions should be mailed to:
Joe DeRouen
14232 Marsh Ln. # 51
Addison, Tx. 75234
[255D[0;1;31m[255D
Submission Information
----------------------
We're looking for a few good writers.
Actually, we're looking for as many good writers as we can find. We're
interested in fiction, poetry, reviews, feature articles (about most
anything, as long as it's well-written), and even good ANSI art.
The only payment we can offer for your articles, stories, and poems is
that of exposure. As STTS grows, we expect it to reach markets through-
out the USA, Canada, Europe, Japan, and parts of ASIA. Through the
distribution system we're using, the possibilities are practically
limitless.
The copyright of said material, of course, remains the sole property
of the author. STTS has the right to present it once in a "showcase"
format and in an annual "best of" issue. (a paper version as well
as the elec. version)
Acceptance of submitted material does NOT necessarily mean that it
will appear in STTS.
Submissions should be in 100% pure ASCII format. There are no
limitations in terms of lengths of articles, but keep in mind it's
a magazine, not a novel. <Grin>
Fiction and poetry will be handled on a pure submission basis, except
in the case of any round-robin stories or continuing stories that might
develop.
Reviews will also be handled on a submission basis. If you're
interested in doing a particular review medium (ie: books) on a
full-time basis, let me know and we'll talk.
ANSI art should be under 10k and can be about any subject as long as
it's not pornographic. We'll feature ANSI art from time to time,
as well as featuring a different ANSI "cover" for our magazine each
month.
In terms of articles, we're looking for just about anything that's
of fairly general interest to the BBSing world at large. An article
comparing several new high-speed modems would be appropriate, for
example, whereas an article describing in detail how to build your
own such modem really wouldn't be.
Articles needn't be contained to the world of computing, either.
Movies, politics, ecology, literature, entertainment, fiction,
non-fiction, reviews - it's all fair game for STTS.
Articles, again, will be handled on a submission basis. If anyone has
an idea or two for a regular column, let me know. If it works, we'll
incorporate it into STTS.
Writers interested in contributing to Sunlight Through The Shadows can
reach me through any of the following methods:
[255D[0;1;36m[255D
Contact Points
--------------
The Internet - My E_Mail address is: joe.derouen@chrysalis.org
FIDO - Send me a private message containing your
submission to node 1:124/8010
RIME - My NODE ID is SUNLIGHT or 5320. Send all files to
this address. (you'll have to ask your SysOp who's
carrying RIME to send it for you) Alternately, you
can simply post it in either the Common, Writers,
or Poetry Corner conference to: Joe Derouen. If you
put a ->5320 or ->SUNLIGHT in the top-most upper
left-hand corner, it'll be routed directly to my
BBS.
Pen & Brush Net - Leave me a note or submission in either the STTS
Conference, Poetry Corner conference, or the
Writers Conference. If your P&BNet contact is using
PostLink, you can route the message to me
automatically via the same way as described above
for RIME. In either case, address all correspondence
to: Joe derouen.
WME Net - Leave me a note or submission in the Net Chat
conference. Address all correspondence to:
Joe Derouen.
My BBS - Sunlight Through The Shadows. 12/24/96/14.4k baud.
(214) 620-8793. You can upload submissions to the
STTS Magazine file area, comment to the SysOp, or
just about any other method you choose. Address all
correspondence to: Joe Derouen.
US Mail - Send disks (any size, IBM format ONLY) containing
submissions to:
Joe DeRouen
14232 Marsh Ln. # 51
Dallas, Tx. 75234
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Advertising
-----------
We're accepting business advertisements in STTS. If you're interested
in advertising in STTS, a full-page (ASCII or ASCII and ANSI) is $
20.00/issue. Those interested can contact me by any of the means listed
under Contact Points, elsewhere in this issue.
Currently, STTS Mag is being "officially" carried by over 25 BBS's
across the nation. It's also available via Internet, FIDO, RIME, and
Pen & Brush Networks.
If you or your company want to expose your product to a variety of
people all across the world, this is your opportunity!
We're not really out to make money with STTS, and thus will be willing
to "deal" with you. If you're a shareware author or provide some sort
of service that STTS or myself might find of use, I'm willing to trade
advertising space for a registered version of your product of service.
[255D[0;1m[255D
Contact Points
--------------
You can contact me through any of the following addresses.
Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS
(214) 620-8793 12/24/96/14,400 Baud
InterNet: joe.derouen@chrysalis.org
Pen & Brush Net: ->SUNLIGHT
P&BNet Conferences: Any
WME Net: Net Chat conference
PcRelay/RIME: ->SUNLIGHT
RIME Conferences: Common, Writers, or Poetry Corner
FIDO: Joe DeRouen at 1:124/8010
US Mail: Joe DeRouen
14232 Marsh Ln. # 51
Dallas, Tx. 75244
U.S.A.
[255D[0;1;36m[255D
You can always find STTS Magazine on the following BBS's.
BBS's have STTS available for both on-line viewing and
downloading unless otherwise marked.
* = On-Line Only
# = Download Only
BBS Name ........... Sunlight Through The Shadows
Location ........... Addison, Texas (in the Dallas area)
SysOp(s) ........... Joe and Heather DeRouen
Phone ........... (214) 620-8793 (14.4k baud)
(Sorted by area code, then alphabetically)
BBS Name ........... ModemNews
Location ........... Stamford, Connecticut
SysOp(s) ........... Jeff Green
Phone ........... (203) 359-2299 (14.4k baud)
# BBS Name ........... Lobster Buoy
Location ........... Bangor, Maine
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Goodwin
Phone ........... (207) 941-0805 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (207) 945-9346 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Poetry In Motion
Location ........... New York, New York
SysOp(s) ........... Inez Harrison
Phone ........... (212) 666-6927 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Archives On-line
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... David Pellecchia
Phone ........... (214) 247-6512 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (214) 486-8394 (14.4k baud)
# BBS Name ........... BBS America
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Jay Gaines
Phone ........... (214) 680-3406 (9600 baud)
Phone ........... (214) 680-1451 (9600 baud)
# BBS Name ........... Chrysalis BBS
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Garry Grosse
Phone ........... (214) 690-9295 (2400 baud)
Phone ........... (214) 783-5477 (9600 baud)
BBS Name ........... Old Poop's World
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Sonny Grissom
Phone ........... (214) 613-6900 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Opa's Mini-BBS (open 11pm-7am CST)
Location ........... Plano, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... David Marshall
Phone ........... (214) 424-0153 (2400 baud)
# BBS Name ........... User-2-User
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... William Pendergast and Kevin Carr
Phone ........... (214) 492-6565 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (214) 492-5695 (2400 baud)
BBS Name ........... Ruby's Joint
Location ........... Miami, Florida
SysOp(s) ........... David and Del Freeman
Phone ........... (305) 856-4897 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Pegasus BBS
Location ........... Owensboro, Kentucky
SysOp(s) ........... Raymond Clements
Phone ........... (317) 651-0234 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Aries Knowledge Systems
Location ........... Baltimore, Maryland
SysOp(s) ........... Waddell Robey
Phone ........... (410) 625-0109 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Robin's Nest BBS
Location ........... Glen Burnie, Maryland
SysOp(s) ........... Robin Kirkey
Phone ........... (410) 766-9756 (2400 baud)
BBS Name ........... Exec-PC
Location ........... Elm Grove, Wisconsin [Note: Exec-PC has
SysOp(s) ........... Bob Mahoney over 250 lines.
Phone ........... (414) 789-4210 (2400 baud) It's the biggest
Phone ........... (414) 789-4315 (9600 baud) BBS in the world!]
Phone ........... (414) 789-4360 (14.4k baud)
# BBS Name ........... SoftWare Creations
Location ........... Clinton, Mass.
SysOp(s) ........... Dan Linton
Phone ........... (508) 368-7036 (14.4k baud)
# BBS Name ........... Arts Place BBS, The
Location ........... Arlington, Virginia
SysOp(s) ........... Ron Fitzherbert
Phone ........... (703) 528-8467 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Pen and Brush BBS
Location ........... Burke, Virginia
SysOp(s) ........... Lucia and John Chambers
Phone ........... (703) 644-6730 (300-12.0k baud)
Phone ........... (703) 644-5196 (14.4k baud)
# BBS Name ........... Sidewayz BBS
Location ........... Fairfax, Virginia
SysOp(s) ........... Paul Cutrona
Phone ........... (703) 352-5412 (2400 baud)
BBS Name ........... Anathama Downs
Location ........... Sonoma County, California
SysOp(s) ........... Sadie Jane
Phone ........... (707) 792-1555 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... InfoMat BBS
Location ........... San Clemente, California
SysOp(s) ........... Michael Gibbs
Phone ........... (714) 492-8727 (14.4k baud)
# BBS Name ........... Renaissance BBS
Location ........... Arlington, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... David Pollard
Phone ........... (817) 467-7322 (9600 baud)
# BBS Name ........... Second Sanctum
Location ........... Arlington, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Robbins
Phone ........... (817) 784-1178 (2400 baud)
Phone ........... (817) 784-1179 (14.4k baud)
[255D[0;1;35m[255D
STTS Net Report
Copyright (c) 1993, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved
Sunlight Through The Shadows Magazine is available through FIDO,
INTERNET, RIME, and PEN & BRUSH NET. Check below for information on how
to request the current issue of the magazine or be put on the monthly
mailing list.
FIDO
To get the newest issue of the magazine via FIDO, you'd do a file
request from Fido Node 1:124/8010 using the "magic" name of SUNLIGHT.
INTERNET
To get the newest issue via the internet, send a message to
FTPMAIL@CHRYSALIS.ORG and include as the first line in your message (or
second, if the system you're using forces you to use the first for the
address like) GET SUNyymm.ZIP where yymm is the current year and month.
Example: This issue is SUN9308.ZIP. After Sept. 1st, the current issue
will be SUN9309.ZIP, and so on. Easier than that would be to request
being put on the monthly mailing list. To do so, simply send a note to
Joe.Derouen@Chrysalis.org asking to be put on the STTS mailing list. If
you're a SysOp be sure to tell me your BBS's name, your name, your state
and city, the BBS's phone number(s) and it's baud rate(s) so I can
include you in the list issue's distribution list.
RIME
To request the magazine via RIME, ask your RIME SysOp to do a file
request from node # 5320 for the current issue (eg: SUN9308.ZIP, or
whatever month you happen to be in) Better yet, ask your SysOp to
request to be put on the monthly mailing list and receive STTS
automatically.
PEN & BRUSH NET
To request via P&BNet, follow the instructions for RIME above. They're
both ran on Postlink and operate exactly the same way in terms of file
requests and transfers.
I'd like to thank Garry Gross of Chrysalis BBS and David Pellecchia of
Archives On-line for allowing me to access the Internet and Fido
(respectively) from their systems.
If you're interested in donating prizes for the STTS monthly contest,
you can contact me via any of the addresses listed in CONTACT POINTS
elsewhere in this issue.
We'll accept most any prizes. If you're a shareware author, a great way
to get some free publicity would be to donate a registered version of
your program(s).
Examples of prizes you might donate would be registered shareware, CD's,
access to pay Bulletin Board Systems, magazine subscriptions, etc.
Depending upon available space in the magazine and what you're donating,
we may be willing to provide advertising space in STTS free of charge or
for a reduced charge.
[255D[0;1;33m[255D
End Notes
Copyright (c) 1993, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved
The second issue of STTS Magazine draws to a close. I think that all
involved did a great job in bringing it together, and my thanks go out
to them one and all.
My thanks also goes out to all the SysOps who're carrying the magazine.
The more BBS's that feature STTS, the more readers we get. The more
readers we get, the more submissions we get and the better the magazine
gets. The chain is only as strong as it's weakest link, after all. And
every link of this "chain" - from the readers to the SysOps to the
networks to the writers and to myself, the publisher - is an important
one.
Going with that analogy, one surefire way to keep a chain from rusting
is to move it about from time to time and even oil it. I want STTS to be
flexible and to get a steady infusion of new ideas and concepts.
Things I have in mind for future issues include a round-robin continuing
story, a story-writing contest, interviews with people important to the
telecommunications industry, and more!
What ideas do *you* have that would help STTS to keep growing and
evolving, becoming the best that it can be? I want to hear them. I may
or may not agree with them or implement them, but every idea is
important to me and to the evolution of the magazine.
On that note, I'll end this and start the distribution process. I hope
you enjoyed this issue of Sunlight Through The Shadows magazine. Keep
reading!
--Joe DeRouen, 11:55pm 07/31/93
[255D[0;1m[255D
