1998-03-25 - Prologue 13/0 – SPACE ALIENS HIDE MY DRUGS!

Header Data

From: “Potential Bill Gates Assassins Union (Local 709)” <pbgau@dev.null>
To: cypherpunks@toad.com
Message Hash: 9e25366a95d146f6ffe29490534a683a7104a75e5700db3df82dbcc404d268ce
Message ID: <3518AA73.4569@dev.null>
Reply To: N/A
UTC Datetime: 1998-03-25 06:53:19 UTC
Raw Date: Tue, 24 Mar 1998 22:53:19 -0800 (PST)

Raw message

From: "Potential Bill Gates Assassins Union (Local 709)" <pbgau@dev.null>
Date: Tue, 24 Mar 1998 22:53:19 -0800 (PST)
To: cypherpunks@toad.com
Subject: Prologue 13/0 -- SPACE ALIENS HIDE MY DRUGS!
Message-ID: <3518AA73.4569@dev.null>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain

TruthMonger Sells Out:

Subject: I Concede...
To: BadBillyG<billg@micro$not.cum>
From: TruthMonger<tm@dev.null>

Yo Willy,
  You finally whupped me...
  After years of plotting your death in a slow, excruciating manner,
time and circumstances have finally forced me to offer to compromise
my formerly unbending position regarding your continued physical 

  In my own defence, I must state that I probably could have held out
indefinitely in my crusade to force you to pay for the tremendous
amount of suffering that resulted from your successfully making DOS
a worldwide computer standard, despite the fact that children in
basements around the nation were producing vastly superior products,
such as 4DOS and AstroTit, had it not been for the fact that even
greater evil forces in the world aligned themselves against you,
behind ugly-as-sin schills such as Janet Reno, as opposed to sweethearts
such as Blanc Weber, who is your staunchest defender, despite the fact
that she is carrying Attila T. Hun's baby.

  The beginning of my downfall as a 'command-line kind of guy' was
when I was forced to trade in my XT with a 20M hard drive and 2M of
RAM because of the requirement of the only ISP available to me
that I be able to run Windoze.
  Up until then, I had been able to successfully hide my secret life
as a huge fan of M$ Word. After purchasing Win95, however, and
not having the character to deny myself indulging in the downloading
of a free copy of InterNet Assistant, my anti-M$ resolve deteriorated
rapidly, until I finally got fed up with Nut$crape's inability to
provide me with the instant gratification of my desire to have the
latest in software technology, despite the fact that it was a result
of your devious and predatorial business practices which made it so.
  As a result, I finally quit kidding myself about my ability to
resist joining the herd of Sheeple racing madly over the M$ cliff,
and I downloaded and installed M$ Exploiter.

  In recognition of the fact that I am now committed to a life of
addiction to the M$ updates being offered by shadowy characters on
dimly-lit street corners, I am willing to offer you a compromise
on my previous demands that you wipe that cute, shit-eating grin
off of your face so that I can assassinate you with a clear
  To be honest, my current predicament is that, after purchasing
a variety of M$ products, I currently find myself unable to 
reinstall any of them if my system goes to shit, which it often
does as a result of my being a sorry, drunken, drug addict without
a lick of common sense.
  Although I own 3 1/2" floppy disks purchased in the late 1980's,
and which still work perfectly fine, the disks which I have
acquired recently, containing the M$ products I own, have all
gone to shit, because America has sunk to the point where they
not only cannot make a decent car, anymore, but they also cannot
make a decent floppy disk.
  Accordingly, I am willing to reduce my demands for your physical
extermination to a demand that you allow me to cut off three fingers
on your left hand, on the following conditions:
1. You provide me with CD-ROMS for Win95, M$ Word for Win95,
  Windows 3.11, and a copy of AstroTit, a program writen by
  some sorry loser in Sedona, Arizona, and which I lost because
  DOS 4.0 made me so fucking crazy that I threw my computer
  through a window in forty-below-zero weather.
2. You not tell the CypherPunks about this offer, since all of my
  somewhat deficient reputation capital rests upon my long-winded
  diatribes against M$, as a result of my not having any appreciable
  computer skills.
3. That Blanc Weber provide me with a notarized document signed by
  a reputable physician stating that s/he has examined her, and 
  revealing whether or not she is wearing panties.
4. You recall the team of hired assassins who are currently training
  their cross-hairs on my toilet, through the bathroom window.
  (I need to take a helluva piss, and the kitchen sink is backed-up.)
5. Some other conditions which I can't remember because I am running
  low on my medications, but I will hold you to those conditions,
6. You throw your support behind legislation aimed at eliminating
  discrimination based on species. (My dog, Baby, asked me to
  include this condition. She promised to quit hogging the 'good
  pillow' if you would agree to this.)

Looking forward to your reply,
"It's not a DEATH THREAT!!! until *I* say it's a DEATH THREAT!!!"