1994-01-12 - Somebody posting fake Detweiler messages

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From: nobody@soda.berkeley.edu
To: cypherpunks@toad.com
Message Hash: 63a048a809f36382d5542c95aaf51a231eb90ac571d748d40307e601eb641408
Message ID: <199401120847.AAA09404@soda.berkeley.edu>
Reply To: N/A
UTC Datetime: 1994-01-12 08:47:20 UTC
Raw Date: Wed, 12 Jan 94 00:47:20 PST

Raw message

From: nobody@soda.berkeley.edu
Date: Wed, 12 Jan 94 00:47:20 PST
To: cypherpunks@toad.com
Subject: Somebody posting fake Detweiler messages
Message-ID: <199401120847.AAA09404@soda.berkeley.edu>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain



  This message was posted to alt.conspiracy.

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From: Tommy the Tourist <nobody@soda.berkeley.edu>
Subject: Apologies
Organization: Cypherpunks


From: "L. Detweiler" <ld231782@longs.lance.colostate.edu>

Before the story gets around from other sources, here's what *really*
happened.  I guess that I should start by saying that I'm sorry.  I'm
sorry for the tremendous disturbance that I caused, I now see that I
was completely wrong.  Nick Szabo is a real person, and I was mistaken
to say otherwise.  I don't know how to go about cleaning up the mess
that I made, but I guess that I'll start by humbly asking all of you
to forgive me.

It began when I was at home one evening last week, watching TV.  The
voices were back again. They told me that the TENTACLES were going to
use his account to spread their LIES, and to RAPE the unsuspecting
net.virgins.  The more I thought about it, the more agitated I became.
Their SCREAMS filled my ears, and their TEARS came from my own eyes.
I couldn't sleep because I knew that their fates rested in my hands.
I had to do something.  The hell that awaited them was known to me
alone, and only I could save them.  The poor souls would SQUIRM in
AGONY and CRY OUT in pain, but the GROTESQUE cypherpunks would only
LAUGH.  Every time that I closed my eyes, I'd see the inferno.  The
monsters believed, I knew, that no joy was greater than UTTERLY
DESTROYING an unsuspecting user, SODOMIZING their innocent victims
just as they do each other.  I thought about posting another message,
but decided that this time I had to take my stand.  The SATANIC CABAL
must be BROKEN, as totally and completely as the Tower of Babel.  I
flew to Washington, D.C., determined to prove once and for all that
szabo@netcom.com is nothing but a deceiving TENTACLE, bent on PILLAGE
and PLUNDER.  Once that was done, the fate of the MEDUSA was sealed.

Thanks to one of his net *friends*, I had Szabo's phone number.
Locating his address was not difficult.  I knocked at the door and
asked for Szabo.  The fellow who answered the door asked my name and,
when I gave it, he told me to wait there.  A few seconds later I heard
a voice from upstairs yelling ``Call 911!  Call 911!''.  His roommate
jumped me and we wrestled until, finally, I freed myself and was able
to calm him down enough to talk.  Szabo came downstairs and said that
he'd called the police, and I'd better hightail it out of there or be
prepared to spend some time in jail.

Thinking that he was an imposter paid by t.c.may and e.hughes to act
as Szabo should anyone check, I agreed to talk with the CHARLATAN.  He
would meet his fate soon enough, and he would PAY DEARLY for his
complicity.  I convinced him that I wasn't armed, and he agreed to
talk.  He insisted that he *was* Szabo and tried many ways of proving
it.  He produced a drivers license and a passport, both issued to
Szabo and with pictures of this same man.  They seemed valid.  I was
confused.  He then dialed into netcom as szabo and read some mail.  It
was then that I noticed the sounds, soft and just at the edge of my
hearing.  It was a light and breathy sound.  It was... LAUGHTER.  The
VOICES WERE LAUGHING AT ME.  It was then that the clouds parted and
the gleaming ray of sunlight came down to illuminate my vision.  All
of the time that I had spent jousting quixotically with the
cypherpunks had been wasted, as they weren't the enemy.  They weren't
the ones who were sending the voices to disrupt my sleep.  It wasn't
them at all.  The voices were my true enemy, and I set out with
renewed vigor to seek out and destroy the voices.

Um, anyway, I guess that he really is szabo@netcom.com.  Sorry.

Now what I need to know is how do I go about rebuilding the reputation
that I've spent so long destroying?  So many people have learned to
ignore posts from my account that I fear I'll not get another hearing.

Gee, maybe on the internet they CAN tell if you're a dog...

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