From: Toto <toto@sk.sympatico.ca>
Date: Wed, 29 Apr 1998 17:59:32 -0700 (PDT)
To: cypherpunks@toad.com
Subject: The Epilogue That Never Was - SPACE ALIENS HIDE MY DRUGS!!!
Message-ID: <3547CDC6.1990@sk.sympatico.ca>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain


The Epilogue That Never Was - SPACE ALIENS HIDE MY DRUGS!!!
________________________________________________________

Memoirs of a Visible Man:

  When you are 'different' from others--inherently, irrevocably, 
unarguably different--you either learn to remain, as much as possible, 
invisible, or you spend much of your life in various sorts of prisons, 
subject to various kinds of punishments.
  There have always been a few 'safe havens' for those guilty of the 
crime of being different from those around them, although, for the most 
part, they have historically tended to be 'dangerous' safe havens such 
as pirate or merchant ships, new world colonies, fringe religious or 
political movements. Those with wits, who didn't mind joining the ranks 
of the lower fringes of society, in return for ostensibly remaining 
within it, could become court jesters, actors, artists, and the like.

  With the advent of the Age of Electonics and the rise of Virtual 
Reality, those who are able to remain within society's outer boundaries 
by comically or entertainingly mirroring the parts of the human psyche 
and human emotions that society requires its 'regular' members to 
repress have become elite, well-paid artisians who are recognized as 
valuable professionals in the Age of Form Over Substance.
  For those in the lower strata of society who are unable to 
successfully graduate from Society's Finishing School--usually as a 
result of answering  "Fuck You, Shit For Brains" to questions where a 
"Yes Sir/Officer/YourHonor" answer is required--there are no longer many 
physical locations available where one can escape to , which results in 
the creation of an increasing number of them being labeled 'criminals' 
and banished to New World Order colonies consisting of six-foot cabins 
bounded by iron bars.
  Those in the higher strata of society who are unable or unwilling to 
live within the boundaries society requires of the masses often have the 
option of joining an elite group of criminal-actors who have sufficient 
firepower at their command to bully the others in society into 
recognizing their authority to disobey all of society's rules and act in 
their own self-interest while denying they are doing so by telling 
blatant and outrageous lies. (Those with a particular talent in this 
area sometimes reach the epitome of politics, in which the masses 
consider them to be every bit as 'real' as the 'people' on 'As The World 
Turns.' They are then free to do everything that Soap Opera actors do, 
with equal impunity from facing the real-life consequences that come 
from manslaughter, rape, robbery, marriage and drug-addiction--although 
they are still subject to the laws of physics when playing 
ski-football.)

  In the Glory Days of Virtual Reality, before the ElectroMagnetic 
Curtain began descending around those lured away from InterNet Free 
Terra and into the Sticky World Wide Web of the InfoMercial Highway 
Robbers, there were a few true Rennaisance Criminal Genius Elite who 
recognized that they could settle down from a life on the run--in small 
prairie towns such as Bienfait, Saskatchewan--and still live wild and 
free, riding the Virtual Outlaw Trail through the Alt2600 BadLands, 
robbing DataBanks, engaging in drunken brawls in the CypherPunks 
CryptoSaloon, partying with Bound and Gagged Asian DanceHall UnderAge 
Girls being pimped by Adult Check, and having the rugged good looks of 
Robert Redford, in an ASCII Art kind of way.
  Once the Information Railway began being replaced by the Information 
Highway as a comfortable, convenient way for the masses to journey into 
what were formerly remote Electronic Wilderness Areas, the outlaws and 
free-stinkers who had formerly been able to remain, for  the most part, 
invisible to the programmed masses, yearning to keep other minds from 
being free, found themselves subject to the scrutiny of those who 
recognized that free-range cattle and penned sheep could not peacefully 
coexist in a merchant society where corporate mergers to create Company 
Towns, with Company Stores, would be jeopardized by small-time rustlers 
and fence-cutters.
  Thus there arose a need for ElectroMagnetic Law and Order, supported 
by the muddled assholes, struggling to be Freeh.


The Lost Train of Thought (Part I):
  ...uuuhhhhh...


The Runaway Train of Thought Is Melted Down To Build The WhatIf Server:

WhatIf: A ClueLess Canuck, turned into a MindBot by the Institute of  
Applied Metaphysics in preparation for the Moscow Olympics, was culled 
from a Russian language class full of Canadian Mounties at the 
University of Regina by a Dark Continent TigerTeam agent and trained in 
Psychic Warfare?

WhatIf: A DoubleShinned Agent trained at the Psycho War Fair travelled 
to Africa with a Nuclear Physicist who was the youngest President at 
Oberlin College, and met with his TigerTeam controllers in a bar full of 
sailors from the U.S.S. Enterprise in the heart of Mombassa, as other 
members of his travelling group were engaged in a 'tour' of a US Navy 
ship?

WhatIf: A ClassLess Canuck highly trained in the Lack of Social Skills 
travelled to East Germany and Poland shortly after the Fall of the Wall, 
y'all, crossing the Polish border illegally to meet with members of the 
Little Nicky Telsa Fan Club at the same time that the ShakeSpearAtIan 
NukeKingLear PharmAssist (who got glowing reviews for the Polish 
translation of his work) was in Moscow, paying pipers and pimps to play 
the tunes called by his Muppet Pastors for the NuclearPowered Dancing 
Bears?

Qu'est Que C'est: A Psychic Killer To  Be Named Later was apprehended 
fleeing Poland, but walked away a free MindBot before the InTerraGators 
arrived, after paying a seventy Mark Antony Fine to a 'confused' Polish 
border guard, and was then intercepted upon his arrival back in the 
United States by US Customs agents instructed to hold him for 
interrogation regarding his US passport with a Polish exit stamp, but no 
Polish visa or  entrance stamp, and then slipped away after the 
'confused' agents merely confiscated his Black Forest Ham and released 
him, whereupon he quickly slipped off to a different airport to take a 
small plane to Nantucket to meet a female agent of  the Holy Roman 
Empire instructed to arrange for his transfer to a private yacht bound 
for a private compound of Nazi BusinessWar Criminals on a nearby island 
famous for their Celebrity Midnight Marathon Swim and Drunken Driving 
and Diving Festival?

WhatIf: A Dangerously Drunken Psychotic PissAnt Drug-Addicted Dumb-Ass 
Shit-Disturber To Be Maimed Later concocted some wild, unbelievable 
story to fuck with the mimes of the MimeFuckers, but all the details of 
his mad ramblings were already a verifiably true part of the SecretGuys' 
SecretGuyFiles, and even a cursory investigation would reveal even more 
conspiratorial concepts concerning his connection to a Forth Freudian 
Sufi Sect dedicated to Anti-NukeUnclear Publishing of Libertarian 
Mathematical GreenPeace OverGround GoreVillain Manuals designed to apply 
Laws of Form to a ChaosKult attack on the Fourth JavaCup Active-X-Files 
Implementation of A Disturbed CraptoLogical LISP MamboErs' Secret Agenda 
to Subvert Authority by making the Ship of Goverment list so far to the 
left that the Titanic balls of the Hermerphodite Aunt E. Christ are cut 
off as she slides over the rail, into the sea, emerging from the depths 
as Anne R. Christ who is Lucky enough to surface in time to hitch a ride 
on the Millenium Bug just before the Reptilian Nazi GermanAmericans 
circle the VolksWagons in a Two-Byte Double Donut formation to prepare 
for the attack of Naieve Americans with Wounded Knees whose Peyote 
Dreams predict that an Elvis whose Aim Is True will use Broken Arrows to 
cut off the Forked Tongues of the Serpentine Servants of Satan living in 
secret underground bunkers beneath both the AdamAntArctic and Mule Shoe, 
Texas, in the Land of the Freeh?

WhatIf: Incompetent Secret Agents To Be Framed Later gave up on 
purporting to properly protect National Security <flags digitally wave> 
<Matt's trumpets Blaze FORTH> in order to fail in their efforts to find 
a single innocent child to save from drugs dealers at the PROM, and, in 
their frustration at not being able to find the <ANY> Key which will 
connect them to the ClueServer, hit the <DELETE> key instead, erasing 
the cleverly crafted composition of the Author, admitting an astounding 
array of in-depth illegal involvement in countless consciously 
conspiratorial causes aimed at the overthrow of OverLords oppressing 
opponents of Fucking FreehDumb Privacy Pirates purloining the Leftist 
Constitutional Rights of silly,  sufficiently subdued SheepIzens 
subverting their own Freedom, Liberty and Privacy, as well as their 
right to Free Rum, the USS Liberty and Piracy?

WhatIf: You slapped yourself on the forehead, mystified as to how the 
Author managed to once again sucker you into reading the mindless trash 
that is placed inside his skull by psychic garbage-pickers who step on 
his foot, lifting his toupee, and toss in the leftover thoughts that 
were pruned from the minds of the vegetables planted in the Home For The 
Criminally Insane too early in the year to avoid being cold-cocked by 
the FrostBack of Notre Dame, initiated in Wilcox, Saskatchewan, into a 
Circle of  Eunuchs Chapter of Eternity Cult known as the Hockey Hounds 
of Hell On Ice?

WhatIf: Jesus Saves, but Gretsky puts in the rebounds?

(c) 1999.9, ADualist Huxter (Part IV of 'The Whores Of Deception')