From: blakes7-d-request@lysator.liu.se Subject: blakes7-d Digest V99 #61 X-Loop: blakes7-d@lysator.liu.se X-Mailing-List: archive/volume99/61 Precedence: list MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: multipart/digest; boundary="----------------------------" To: blakes7-d@lysator.liu.se Reply-To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se ------------------------------ Content-Type: text/plain blakes7-d Digest Volume 99 : Issue 61 Today's Topics: [B7L] Re: blakes [B7L] Re: flat robin continues Re: [B7L] Fannishness [B7L] Re: starting grid RE: [B7L] Re: flat robin continues RE: [B7L] Fannishness Re: re [B7L] Flat Robin Re: [B7L] Fannishness Re: [B7L] corgi liberator RE: [B7L] Fannishness RE: [B7L] Fannishness [B7L] Redemption Re: [B7L] SFX goes B7 mad Re: [B7L] Not Necessarily The Flat Robin 12 Re: re [B7L] Flat Robin RE: [B7L] Fannishness [B7L] More Bloody Flat Bloody Robin (15) Re: [B7L] corgi liberator Re: [B7L] Fannishness [B7L] Yet another Flat Robin (16), this time by Jacqueline RE: [B7L] Fannishness Re: [B7L] Fannishness Re: [B7L] Zen is not a IT !!! Re: [B7L] Yet another Flat Robin (16), this time by Jacqueline [B7L] Yet another Flat Robin (17), this time by Arkaroo ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 15:50:09 +0000 From: Steve Rogerson To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: [B7L] Re: blakes Message-ID: <36C6F0AD.B8847EA4@mcr1.poptel.org.uk> Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii; x-mac-type="54455854"; x-mac-creator="4D4F5353" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Neil said: "I tend to see rebels as being a largely parochial bunch, only concerned with the future of their own homeworlds - "Freedom for _us_ and sod everyone else."" This doesn't fit in with what was said in Project Avalon. Avalon apparently went round helping rebel movements and therefore had to be part of some kind of wider organisation trying to forge links between the rebel groups. This suggests that the rebellion did have some form of inter-planetary scope and organisation. Blake's hit and run terriorist tactics could have the opposite effect to what he intended - that of giving confidence to rebel groups. They could just as easily sit back and leave it to what they see as the big boys. Also, propaganda against Blake's terrorism could make it harder for rebels to recruit if the propaganda, which it would do, tarred them all with the same brush. -- cheers Steve Rogerson Redemption 99: The Blakes 7 and Babylon 5 convention 26-28 February 1999, Ashford International Hotel, Ashford, Kent http://www.smof.com/redemption/ "Get in there you big furry oaf, I don't care what you smell" Star Wars ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 15:51:53 +0000 From: Steve Rogerson To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: [B7L] Re: flat robin continues Message-ID: <36C6F115.78E6AC17@mcr1.poptel.org.uk> Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii; x-mac-type="54455854"; x-mac-creator="4D4F5353" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Jacqueline said: "The three humans in front of him looked at him and decided that if a seven feet tall being which appeared to be made out of solid rock and looked like it could eat them for breakfast went by the name of Pebbles, then that was a perfectly normal name. And an excellent opportunity to practice that poker face." I have a six foot plus mate built with the sort of shape that reminds you of a bouncer (something he does occassionally) and he goes by the name of Pixie. -- cheers Steve Rogerson Redemption 99: The Blakes 7 and Babylon 5 convention 26-28 February 1999, Ashford International Hotel, Ashford, Kent http://www.smof.com/redemption/ "Get in there you big furry oaf, I don't care what you smell" Star Wars ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 16:06:42 -0000 From: "Neil Faulkner" To: "lysator" Subject: Re: [B7L] Fannishness Message-ID: <003201be5834$c44ee100$711eac3e@default> Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Jacqueline wrote: >> Fannish authors differ as to what constitutes an ideal >> balance of the two elements. Should the canonical text be regarded >> primarily as a medium, or as a message? >> >Whoa, you're taking this way too seriously. I don't know about Penny and >Avona, but I was just having fun mixing up the people from two series that I >really love. The stock defence of the adorational mode of fannishness: 'Stop being so serious' ; 'I just love the series/book/fim' ; and that trusty old stalwart, 'It's _fun_'. But _why_ is it fun? Neil ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 17:30:31 +0000 From: Steve Rogerson To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: [B7L] Re: starting grid Message-ID: <36C70836.1FE4620F@mcr1.poptel.org.uk> Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii; x-mac-type="54455854"; x-mac-creator="4D4F5353" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Darren wrote: > Cally -Skoda. WOuld have enviromental stickers on the back. Surely a Citroen CV2 (were the no nuclear power stickers factory fitted?) Soolin would go for something cool, slick and powerful. -- cheers Steve Rogerson Redemption 99: The Blakes 7 and Babylon 5 convention 26-28 February 1999, Ashford International Hotel, Ashford, Kent http://www.smof.com/redemption/ "Get in there you big furry oaf, I don't care what you smell" Star Wars ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 19:37:30 +0100 From: Jacqueline Thijsen To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: RE: [B7L] Re: flat robin continues Message-ID: <39DCDDFD014ED21185C300104BB3F99F10FB0D@NL-ARN-MAIL01> Content-Type: text/plain Steve said: > Jacqueline said: "The three humans in front of him > looked at him and decided that if a seven feet tall being which appeared > to > be made out of solid rock and looked like it could eat them for > breakfast > went by the name of Pebbles, then that was a perfectly normal name. And > an > excellent opportunity to practice that poker face." > > I have a six foot plus mate built with the sort of shape that reminds > you of a bouncer (something he does occassionally) and he goes by the > name of Pixie. > Remind me never to play poker with you. Jacqueline ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 19:55:12 +0100 From: Jacqueline Thijsen To: lysator Subject: RE: [B7L] Fannishness Message-ID: <39DCDDFD014ED21185C300104BB3F99F10FB0E@NL-ARN-MAIL01> Content-Type: text/plain Neil wrote: > >> Fannish authors differ as to what constitutes an ideal > >> balance of the two elements. Should the canonical text be regarded > >> primarily as a medium, or as a message? > >> > >Whoa, you're taking this way too seriously. I don't know about Penny and > >Avona, but I was just having fun mixing up the people from two series > that > I > >really love. > > The stock defence of the adorational mode of fannishness: 'Stop being so > serious' ; 'I just love the series/book/fim' ; and that trusty old > stalwart, 'It's _fun_'. > Stock defence? Adorational? This sounds like what I used to get from a very annoying boy when he found out I'm a vegetarian. He seemed to think that because my outlook on life differed from what he perceived as "normal", I should justify my choices to him. The words he used were very emotionally loaded, too. I'm more than happy to tell people how I feel about things, but only when the person I'm talking to is prepared to take me seriously. And that includes my choice not to take something seriously, or do something just because I feel like it, without thinking it through. > But _why_ is it fun? > Nothing is fun if that's the way you look at things. I didn't say that it is fun in itself. I said I'm having fun. For instance, I put Blake and Granny Weatherwax together in that way, because I kept on grinning whenever I thought about that. Like beauty, fun is very much in the eye of the beholder, and really can't be explained. You're quite welcome to whatever kind of fun you like best but I reserve the right to enjoy myself in my own way. Jacqueline ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 15:17:52 +0000 From: Julia Jones To: lysator Subject: Re: re [B7L] Flat Robin Message-ID: In message <010b01be57cf$47b5dbe0$2e18ac3e@default>, Neil Faulkner writes >The last one I read - Faust/Eric - was distinctly >unimpressive, and left me feeling that Pratchett might be falling victim to >his own success. Or maybe it was just a one-off blip of duffness, or maybe >I just don't have the right frame of mind to appreciate its excellence (not >unlikely, actually). That one appeared quite early on, so it wasn't really Pratchett falling victim to his own success. It was also more of an excuse for lovely large illos by Josh Kirby than an actual novel, so if you read the standard size Corgi rather than the large-scale illustrated version, I think you'd find it pretty disappointing. Odlly enough, alt.fan.pratchett was liberally scattered with rude comments last year about how much darker the novels had become recently, and that this was A Bad Thing because these people bought the books for a good laugh, not to be expected to think about the human condition. I decided to keep quiet, in case there were threats about starting up a new swear box especially for me... -- Julia Jones "Don't philosophise with me, you electronic moron!" The Turing test - as interpreted by Kerr Avon. ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 19:14:48 +0000 From: Julia Jones To: lysator Subject: Re: [B7L] Fannishness Message-ID: In message <003201be5834$c44ee100$711eac3e@default>, Neil Faulkner writes > >But _why_ is it fun? > You quite certain you don't think you're being interviewed for a job in a quarry? -- Julia Jones "Don't philosophise with me, you electronic moron!" The Turing test - as interpreted by Kerr Avon. ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 18:04:47 +0100 (BST) From: Judith Proctor To: Lysator List Subject: Re: [B7L] corgi liberator Message-ID: Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; CHARSET=US-ASCII On Sun 14 Feb, Steve Rogerson wrote: > I bought the normal looking white Corgi Liberator a couple of years ago. > Today, however, I picked up another one for a fiver at an SF fair. This, > however, is mostly silver with yellow plastic for the prongs and the bit > around the green ball. Does anyone know anything about this variation? The white Liberator was produced by Corgi in 1978 in a box with the first season logo on it. It was re-released in 1979 as 'Starship Liberator' (with no mention of the series) and came as a silver version in a double pack with a space shuttle. There was also a blue version sold on its own. The above comes from an article written by Kevin Davies in the Programme Guide. Judith -- http://www.hermit.org/Blakes7 Redemption 99 - The Blakes 7/Babylon 5 convention 26-28 February 1999, Ashford International Hotel, Kent http://www.smof.com/redemption/ ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 12:15:58 PST From: "Penny Dreadful" To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: RE: [B7L] Fannishness Message-ID: <19990214201558.3488.qmail@hotmail.com> Content-type: text/plain Jacqueline said: >Stock defence? Adorational? This sounds like what I used to get from >a very annoying boy when he found out I'm a vegetarian... I sympathise. I gave up long ago *ever* using the v-word. Among many others. *Never* try to argue for anything you actually believe in. >For instance, I put Blake and Granny >Weatherwax together in that way, because I kept on grinning whenever >I thought about that. Like beauty, fun is very much in the eye of the >beholder, and really can't be explained. It made me laugh out loud, for what it's worth. Both yours and Avona's did consistently and amused me sufficiently to try and Keep The Dream Alive...I didn't pursue the Witches thread because I can't, erm, empathise (?) with them the way I can with the Wizards, too long in the Incestuous Halls of Academe. And amongst the B7 characters I think you can tell where my empathies lie. --Penny "Don't Bogart That Frog, My Friend" Dreadful ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 22:07:41 +0100 From: Jacqueline Thijsen To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: RE: [B7L] Fannishness Message-ID: <39DCDDFD014ED21185C300104BB3F99F10FB0F@NL-ARN-MAIL01> Content-Type: text/plain Penny said: > >Stock defence? Adorational? This sounds like what I used to get from > >a very annoying boy when he found out I'm a vegetarian... > > I sympathise. I gave up long ago *ever* using the v-word. Among many > others. *Never* try to argue for anything you actually believe in. > I wish I could do the same. Unfortunately, I often have to have dinner or lunch with one or another of my bosses or collegues, and since most restaurants around here only have dishes with fish or meat in them on the menu, the subject comes up at least once a month. Fortunately most of them don't pursue it, once the usual question of why I'm a vegetarian has been answered. It does sometimes bug me to have to explain it, though. > >For instance, I put Blake and Granny > >Weatherwax together in that way, because I kept on grinning whenever > >I thought about that. Like beauty, fun is very much in the eye of the > >beholder, and really can't be explained. > > It made me laugh out loud, for what it's worth. Both yours and Avona's > did consistently and amused me sufficiently to try and Keep The Dream > Alive...I didn't pursue the Witches thread because I can't, erm, > empathise (?) with them the way I can with the Wizards, too long in the > Incestuous Halls of Academe. And amongst the B7 characters I think you > can tell where my empathies lie. > I loved what you did with Travis and Servalan. Do you think Travis could get a few more of those dried frog pills? Could Servalan get a date with Death? And will the mutoids now join the assassins guild? Dang, but I wish I could come up with enough funny stuff to send in another part. I spent a few hours yesterday staring at the screen trying to write, and came up with exactly nothing. The Star Trek thing was priceless, by the way. Jacqueline ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 21:24:36 +0100 (BST) From: Judith Proctor To: Lysator List cc: Space City Subject: [B7L] Redemption Message-ID: Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; CHARSET=US-ASCII Is anyone driving to Redemption from anywhere near Brentford in Middlesex? If you are, please contact me as you might be able to help out one of our guests who needs some things brought along. Judith -- http://www.hermit.org/Blakes7 Redemption 99 - The Blakes 7/Babylon 5 convention 26-28 February 1999, Ashford International Hotel, Kent http://www.smof.com/redemption/ ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 14:39:03 PST From: "Joanne MacQueen" To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: Re: [B7L] SFX goes B7 mad Message-ID: <19990214223903.3855.qmail@hotmail.com> Content-type: text/plain Steve wrote: >Despite not a mention of B7 on the cover on the March >issue (49) of SFX that hit UK streets today, there is an absolute fest >of B7 stuff inside. Thanks for the warning, Steve, I shall look out for it whenever it turns up at the newsagents. Probably April, given the vagaries of the system! Regards Joanne (who started buying SFX because of a Couch Potato article on B7 some time ago) ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 14:44:09 PST From: "Joanne MacQueen" To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: Re: [B7L] Not Necessarily The Flat Robin 12 Message-ID: <19990214224409.11232.qmail@hotmail.com> Content-type: text/plain >"He looks *so* much like you," Avon muttered. Actually, I can imagine a character played by Paul Darrow saying this. What a pity it's Tekker (DW: Timelash), and not Avon. It is Monday morning... Regards Joanne ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 14:56:58 PST From: "Joanne MacQueen" To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: Re: re [B7L] Flat Robin Message-ID: <19990214225658.13597.qmail@hotmail.com> Content-type: text/plain Julia wrote: >Oddly enough, alt.fan.pratchett was liberally scattered >with rude comments last year about how much darker the novels had >become recently, and that this was A Bad Thing because these >people bought the books for a good laugh, not to be expected to >think about the human condition. I'm glad the darker and somewhat heavier moral tone is not merely a figment of my imagination. Not that I think this is a bad thing - it lurks in the collaboration with Neil Gaiman, when you look past things like tapes left in cars turning into Best of Queen compilations after a fortnight. As for the human condition, correct me if I am wrong, but hasn't the author been concerned with that all along? The gods of the Disc are too busy playing dice in Dunmanifestin', so I presume that aspect has been there from the start, but is being emphasised just that little bit more now. It is Monday morning, and I am still trying to kick my brain back into work mode, after all... Regards Joanne I look in the fridge trying to be philosophical. "Levi-Strauss would ask 'Is it raw or cooked?' and I'd say 'It's all past the use-by date'." Is this post-structuralism or is it botulism? --from a Judy Horacek cartoon ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 20:20:35 PST From: "Penny Dreadful" To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: RE: [B7L] Fannishness Message-ID: <19990215042036.26151.qmail@hotmail.com> Content-type: text/plain Jacqueline said: >Do you think Travis could get a few more of those dried frog pills? I was planning to get him looped on Scumble next. Was going to have him drunkenly confessing his deep abiding love to Servalan for Valentine's Day as per Pat's request long ago (and then perhaps vomiting on her shoes) but the time is now past... >Could Servalan get a date with Death? An intriguing idea. >And will the mutoids now join the assassins guild? Inspirational! Done! Have to wait on Arkaroo's post though or the scene won't make so much sense. Haha. --Penny "Meanwhile..." Dreadful ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 20:25:12 PST From: "Penny Dreadful" To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Cc: arkaroo@hotmail.com, egomoo@geocities.com Subject: [B7L] More Bloody Flat Bloody Robin (15) Message-ID: <19990215042513.28564.qmail@hotmail.com> Content-type: text/plain *** It had been the biggest fireball the disc had ever seen. And high atop Cori Celesti, the god Eddwode had sighed. Well of *course* it was the biggest fireball the disc had ever seen. To wit, just sufficiently larger than the last fireball -- same location, an hour or so previous -- which had at that point been the biggest that the disc had ever seen. And where, he might ask, was the *challenge* in this? Octarine fire, eldritch horrors, all accomplished without *his* divine intervention. And so it had been since the mighty A'Tuin had cracked open the shell of its cosmic egg with a sound you *could* hear in the vacuum of space. In fact discworld theologians had puzzled since time immemorial over *why* the god Eddwode existed at all. Never reaching a satisfactory conclusion but never (theologians being theologians throughout the multiverse) just letting it go already and pondering why the existence of bread[1] or some such. Which was not exactly the adoration Eddwode might have hoped for, with the burnt offerings and the sacrificial virgins and all. What any god fears most of all is attracting the attentions of theologians, whose entire rich history of tree-killing discourse can be compacted without loss of quality down to this: "I believe in You, but I'll be damned if I can figure out why." Literally damned, you may wonder, or figuratively? A very good question. But for gods' sake, don't ask the theologians. Despite knowing it would only depress him, Eddwode's gaze was drawn inexorably back to the Ankh-Morpork Bog, site of so much recent fireball activity. Something about the way both the spaceships had quivered as they fell attracted his interest. With godly ease he looked through the muck which was like greasy chocolate pudding and a hull that seemed to contain a greater proportion of plywood than one would have expected to find in such a vessel. Though of course one should never have expected to find such a vessel *here* at all. Eddwode's omniscient eye bored through all impediments to gaze upon the interior of the craft, and what he beheld pleased him possibly more than anything ever had since the great A'Tuin had thrust its colossal beak through a shell a thousand miles thick, scattering fragments the size of entire mountain ranges. He had long suspected there had been a mistake[2] when he had been made a god here. Rather as every child of a certain age looks at its parents with a coldly assessing eye and thinks it *must* have been adopted. Things just didn't *fit*. There were so many *signs*. And what Eddwode now beheld was the most obvious such sign he had ever encountered: "I'll see your prrtzktk, and raise you a 2.5-femtofarad extingency capacitor." "Pass," said a doleful voice, which seemed vaguely to correspond with a large bank of randomly flashing lights set in one wall. "Read 'em and beep," cackled the small plexiglass box full of multicoloured wires. They were not of this world. Not of this reality. It was obvious -- not because they ran on electricity rather than magic, but because they were so transparently imperfect in appearance. So much less than they could have been. So much less than they *ought* to be. They were clearly a product of the universe Eddwode had been *meant* to inhabit -- a universe, somewhere out there, that really *needed* him. A universe where creating the Biggest Fireball Ever would require the use of large quantities of dangerously volatile substances, rather than just an excitable Narrator. Eddwode, the god of Special Effects, saw his future flash before his eyes in Technicolor. Presently he turned his attention from the Liberator, and began to pack. *** "It's locked," the Senior Wrangler said. "That would go a long way toward explaining its still being closed," the Dean ventured. "After five minutes of rattling I was torn between concluding that or figuring you're not very good with doors." "Very sensible precaution in this neighbourhood," Ridcully averred, and stepped forward to give the pursuit ship's passenger-side door a try. The enthusiasm of his effort set the thing teetering over the parapet again, causing some agitation (if no concerted effort to flee) below; but fortunately it didn't take the weight of many wizards on the towerside wing to get it stabilized again. "It's locked," Ridcully asserted. "I daresay a coathanger is what's called for in this particular situation," the Bursar said. "Very good, Bursar, yes, did you remember to take your afternoon dried-frog pill I think perhaps not?" the Archchancellor responded. "And you say you believe you spoke earlier with the driver of the illegally-parked vehicle in question?" he demanded of the Senior Wrangler. "I -- that is it seems a likely conclusion to jump to..." Memories of Servalan sweeping past him in a cloud of satin, spangles, fur and Federation-Issue Pheremone-Enhancing Eau de Toilette rose up in his mind, rendering him incapable of further speech. Ridcully, staring into his wide blank eyes, appeared at length to make out a dim reflection therein. "Shortish girl, a shade overdressed for midafternoon? Bit of an iffy haircut, if you know what I mean, not that there's anything wrong with it, if you do? Friend looked like he could do with a little more fibre in his diet?" "...possibly..." He certainly couldn't recall her having a friend with her. "She was looking for some wizards, so I sent her off to the Mended Drum." "Good thinking," said the Dean. "Might have been a student." "We have female students?" the Lecturer in Recent Runes asked in amazement. "I have no idea," the Dean replied, "and I intend to keep it that way." *** [1] Easy. It's because licking butter straight off a plate is considered gauche. [2] Which solution *had* been posited by theologians some years back, but the rebuttal ("No, the only mistake the gods made in this regard was not telling us to set fire to you sooner.") had been irrefutable. *** ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 22:38:53 -0700 From: Helen Krummenacker To: Lysator Subject: Re: [B7L] corgi liberator Message-ID: <36C7B2ED.49C2@jps.net> Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Steve Rogerson wrote: > > I bought the normal looking white Corgi Liberator a couple of years ago. > Today, however, I picked up another one for a fiver at an SF fair. This, > however, is mostly silver with yellow plastic for the prongs and the bit > around the green ball. Does anyone know anything about this variation? From the little known and unshown episode where Blake leaves the Leberator in Jenna's hands, and she takes in to a spaceship body shop for new paint and detailing. Avon gets mad because he wasn't asked for input, or else it would be silver with black leather for the prongs and the bit around the green ball. Vila makes off with all the money from the shop's til while everyone else argues. --Avona ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 22:56:56 -0700 From: Helen Krummenacker To: Lysator Subject: Re: [B7L] Fannishness Message-ID: <36C7B729.71FF@jps.net> Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Penny Dreadful wrote: > > Jacqueline said: > > >Stock defence? Adorational? This sounds like what I used to get from > >a very annoying boy when he found out I'm a vegetarian... > > I sympathise. I gave up long ago *ever* using the v-word. Among many > others. *Never* try to argue for anything you actually believe in. Wow! Is everyone writing this flat-robin vegetarian? --AVona BTW, I feel no need to explain why I writer characters true to their pasts and personalities as opposed to completely different in style and behavior. Nor do I see the need to explain why I have fun writing silly stories. ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 15 Feb 1999 07:52:43 +0100 From: Jacqueline Thijsen To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: [B7L] Yet another Flat Robin (16), this time by Jacqueline Message-ID: <39DCDDFD014ED21185C300104BB3F99F10FB10@NL-ARN-MAIL01> Content-Type: text/plain Yahoo, I've finally been able to cobble something up again, hopefully taking some of the weight off Penny's shoulders. I've continued the count of the episodes as she started them. I don't know if it's the right number, either, but since Penny is a dangerous and monomaniacal cult leader on the other list, I wouldn't dare contradict her, so that's now the official count. Albert is Death's manservant, who was first mentioned in Mort. *** As Avon and his newfound companions stood outside the Pullet and Whippet, explaining his (Avon's) plan to Jenna, Vila quietly wandered off to answer a call of nature [1]. Stumbling through the brambles, he decided on doing what needed to be done against one of a matched set of four straight stems that were standing somewhere in the middle of the bog and started unzipping. "I DON'T THINK BINKIE WOULD LIKE THIS VERY MUCH", Death told him. "HE TENDS TO BE RATHER CHOOSY ABOUT WHO CAN PEE AT HIS LEGS." "I understand", said Vila, feeling suddenly a lot more sober than he'd like. "Uh, we seem to have lost the Liberator somewhere in this bog, so that tour is going to be a bit difficult right now." "THAT'S NOT WHY I'M HERE." "It isn't?" "I HAVE COME TO TAKE YOU WITH ME." Vila's knees grew suddenly weaker than they had been. "Uhm, I would like to come with you, really I would, but you see, Avon is going to want me to open a lock for him any minute now, and he can get really sarcastic when I'm not around when he comes looking for me and, and, uhh..." he trailed off as his imagination stopped supplying him with excuses and instead cowered away somewhere in the back of his mind. "I WILL LEAVE A NOTE." "A note?" "SAYING THAT YOU WILL BE BACK SHORTLY." "I will? I mean, that's not usually what happens, is it?" "I NEED YOU TO DO SOMETHING FOR ME." Feeling on more familiar ground here, Vila started grumbling. "Oh it's like that again, is it. Vila come here, Vila go there, Vila..." "I NEED YOU TO OPEN A DOOR FOR ME." ".....open that door." "I HAVE TRIED ASKING SOMEONE AT THE THIEVES GUILD, BUT THEY RAN AWAY." "Can't imagine why." "THE DOOR IN QUESTION IS THE ONE TO MY WINE CELLAR." "It is?" said Vila, suddenly interested. "YES. I HAVE TOLD ALBERT THAT I COULD SIMPLY WALK THROUGH THE DOOR AND BRING HIM ANY WINE THAT HE NEEDED, BUT HE INSISTS ON BEING ABLE TO GO IN THERE HIMSELF." "And how does Albert feel about sharing wine?" *** Meanwhile, somewhere in Ankh-Morpork. "Stop talking at that bracelet, it's bloody daft." "But Miss Weatherwax, I need to contact my ship." "Nonsense, you can't talk to a ship through a bracelet. Besides, you're not a sailor. Now, pick up that chest and bring it up these stairs." "Yes, Miss Weatherwax." "And don't drop it, this time." "Yes, Miss Weatherwax." *** At the Unseen University, Ponder Stibbons stared thoughtfully at something that looked very much like a jail cell that had been built into Hex. Apparently this cell was to be filled with an exotic creature known as a tarriel. Hex had informed them that he expected this addition to improve its performance enormously. And for some reason, it would also assist in a poker game. Ponder, always worried about out-of-cheese errors if Hex didn't get its regular upgrades, decided that this might be worth trying and ambled off to the library to find out more about this tarriel. *** [1] Well, he had been drinking, and they never seemed to do this on the Liberator, so finding a handy bush when they were on a planet must have been a regular practice. ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 15 Feb 1999 07:58:38 +0100 From: Jacqueline Thijsen To: Lysator Subject: RE: [B7L] Fannishness Message-ID: <39DCDDFD014ED21185C300104BB3F99F10FB11@NL-ARN-MAIL01> Content-Type: text/plain Avona wrote: > Wow! Is everyone writing this flat-robin vegetarian? > Comes with being inordinately witty and smart, perhaps? > --AVona > > BTW, I feel no need to explain why I writer characters true to their > pasts and personalities as opposed to completely different in style and > behavior. Nor do I see the need to explain why I have fun writing silly > stories. > Good point. I guess I got kicked into self-defense mode just a little too easily. When are we going to see your next silly story? I miss them. Jacqueline ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 15 Feb 1999 07:27:34 -0000 From: "Neil Faulkner" To: "lysator" Subject: Re: [B7L] Fannishness Message-ID: <003c01be58b4$c4e74140$661bac3e@default> Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Jacqueline wrote: >Stock defence? Adorational? This sounds like what I used to get from a very >annoying boy when he found out I'm a vegetarian. He seemed to think that >because my outlook on life differed from what he perceived as "normal", I >should justify my choices to him. Actually your approach to fannishness is what I would describe as normal (though I prefer to say 'typical', since 'normal' is a rather dodgy word to use in almost any context). >I'm more than happy to tell people how I feel about things, but >only when the person I'm talking to is prepared to take me seriously. And >that includes my choice not to take something seriously, or do something >just because I feel like it, without thinking it through. That sounds a bit irresponsible, actually:) >Nothing is fun if that's the way you look at things A conclusion I reached years ago. Or rather, lots of things are fun, but nothing is _simply_ fun and nothing else. It's 'fun, because...'. It's the 'because' that interests me. Unearthing the 'because' can be... well, fun, actually. >You're quite welcome to whatever kind of fun you like best but I reserve the >right to enjoy myself in my own way. Not that I recall trying to deny you that right. At least your idea of fun doesn't extend to beating people up for being black/gay/whatever, or setting dogs on innocent animals. If it was in my power I'd more than happily deny anyone the right to enjoy themselves in _that_ way. FWIW, I'm a veggie too. Trip-trap trip-trap trip-trap GULP. Neil ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 23:39:55 PST From: "Don Trower" To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: Re: [B7L] Zen is not a IT !!! Message-ID: <19990215073956.20247.qmail@hotmail.com> Content-type: text/plain Sorry to disagree, but I feel I must. Although I like both the computer characaters Zen and Orac both are "it's" although for different reasons. Zen is an alien computer control system, the culture that created it was one which lacked human sentiments they were pure tech. There was no need or benifit for for the computer to do anything more than it's job, it WAS a machine. However, after Blake and co. boarded the ship and over came Zen's security measures the crew treated Zen as a person, Zen learnt from them, probably part of it's programing. To ease their use of the ship the control system adapted to them, so in this new enviroment I can see Zen develope a personality, based on what the crew thought a powerful control system should be. As for Orac, Ensor (spelling?) treated Orac as a machine - an it, however did maintain his manners as seen just before his death. Just a thought. Don. ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 23:44:03 PST From: "Penny Dreadful" To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: Re: [B7L] Yet another Flat Robin (16), this time by Jacqueline Message-ID: <19990215074404.13719.qmail@hotmail.com> Content-type: text/plain Jacqueline said: >but since Penny is a dangerous and monomaniacal cult leader on the >other list, I wouldn't dare contradict her, so that's now the >official count. Glad to see my renown is spreading! Tremble, wretched Brethren of Greif! [Cue flashpots] Bwahaha! >"HE TENDS TO BE RATHER CHOOSY ABOUT WHO CAN PEE AT HIS LEGS." There's words to live by. >"I WILL LEAVE A NOTE." > >"A note?" > >"SAYING THAT YOU WILL BE BACK SHORTLY." > >"I will? I mean, that's not usually what happens, is it?" Tres Pratchettesque, and Vilaesque as well. >"Yes, Miss Weatherwax." Blake's Disciplining continues apace -- give'm the cane, Esme! >Apparently this cell was to be filled with an exotic creature >known as a tarriel. The mind reels at the possibilities. >[1] Well, he had been drinking, and they never seemed to do this on the >Liberator, so finding a handy bush when they were on a planet must have been >a regular practice. But then how do you explain the mighty urine-glacier on her prow? --Picky Penny, Archdeaconess of FINALACT ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 23:58:26 PST From: "Penny Dreadful" To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Cc: arkaroo@hotmail.com, egomoo@geocities.com Subject: [B7L] Yet another Flat Robin (17), this time by Arkaroo Message-ID: <19990215075832.14102.qmail@hotmail.com> Content-type: text/plain >"And how does Albert feel about sharing wine?" 'HE'S AGAINST IT.' Vila shuffled his feet. 'Um, Mister Death...' 'YES?' asked Death, rubbing Binkie down with a handful of foliage. 'I'm very happy to help you... there's just this one last thing...' 'WHAT?' Vila pointed beyond Death. 'Look, a pregnant mare!' he cried. Binkie snorted in fear and leapt towards the street as Vila flung himself into the saddle. Death looked towards the retreating pair with faint amusement. 'WELL, HE'S GOING THE RIGHT DIRECTION, ANYWAYS.' Idly scything an aged mayfly, Death straightened his robes and began walking towards Ankh-Morpork central. *** Jenna and Avon carefully stepped along the slick granite cobbles of the Ankh’s Waterfront, trying to avoid stepping on the remains of the more ripened gangsters. Very little foot traffic moved along the Ankh during midday (due to the photochemical reaction in the jellied-meat-salad that is the Ankh, and the resultant lack of free oxygen) and what traffic did move bobbed rather than walked. So, as the party dragged their unconscious quarry behind them, the great city seemed oddly devoid of humanity. Along the riverbanks the local piscine population heaved themselves up onto land to stare curiously at the party, having reacted Pavlovianly to the sound of an unmoving body being dragged along the street. 'I can't believe that idiot ran off and only left this ridiculous note,' said Jenna, waving a small scrap of paper at Avon. 'I mean, "Gone to meet Death, back by tea-time"? What does that mean?' 'It means our beloved Vila has finally let his cowardice outweigh his fear of our reprisal,' said Avon acidly, giving Rincewind a few gratuitous bumps against the curb. Rincewind’s body stayed blissfully limp while his mind tried to piece together precisely how he had ended up in this situation. His body had been drinking, but that wasn’t anything new; the average wizard’s liver could serve as a mill-stone if needed. It was *where* he was drinking that was different, his brain recalled... ‘The Mended Drum’ had lent itself to steady use by the Wizardly populace for as long as anyone could remember (which, thanks to the especially thick Ankh-Morpork Ale making the rounds this year, was about three drinks back). But the ‘Mended Drum’ did not lend itself to soul-searching or introspection, outside of wondering, ‘How did that arrow manage to grow out of my chest?’. 'The Pullet and Whippet', on the other hand, was located just far enough outside the city that the hardened criminals disdained the shepherd-heavy clientele and the local criminals tended, naturally enough, towards only those crimes that involved sheep (as accomplices or victims) at some point in their commision. Having just received good news with regards to the University’s upcoming Q-Level exams (which he’d gotten permission to sit by means of a grueling regimen of whining, stalking, and the possession of incriminating pictographs of the Dean) and the faint possibility that he could, some day, remove the extra ‘Z’ from his hat without having to worry about unpleasant things being done to his cuticle-possessing limbs, he’d decided that a pint or three of the tavern’s special blend of Ale (‘Freshly-brewed from 100% Liquid’) would go down quite well. And *that’s* when he’d been approached by that oddly attired and obviously scumbled little space-man. Everything after that was a blur (or rather, a montage of sensations most of which consisted of Blunt Head Trauma); his mind tried to console him by saying that things couldn’t *really* be all that bad, really, seeing as he was still able to breath, think, feel pain in the cranial area, etc., but his bladder chimed in by saying that the body had taken a vote and the decision was that while things weren’t all that bad, they were still bad enough to warrant a good show of fight-or-flight reactions on the part of the mind, thank you very much, so if it wouldn’t mind gaining consciousness at some time in the near future the rest of the body would be very grateful. Thus, consciousness dawned reluctantly (and somewhat bitter about the democratic process) but inexorably on Rincewind, who found himself being dragged over a lumpy cobblestones street. Still confused as to how he had arrived at this place and time, he clutched desperately at his Unmentionables, sighing in relief when he felt the sack of copper-coins still secreted within his briefs. Monetary concerns abated, his other senses began to gather data on his current situation. Being dragged home foot-first from a tavern was no new experience for Rincewind (it was the primary mode of locomotion for first-year wizards), but in the past the gutters he’d been dragged through were inevitably those in the ‘Mended Drum’ vicinity. He’d grown to fondly recognize the distinctive aromas and flavours of gutter-liquid that indicated the home-stretch run along Hog Rendering Row. The gutters he slid through now were much fishier and, he thought, lacking that familiar porcine classiness. He turned his attention to the people dragging him; the roughness of the cobbles kept his vision addled, but didn’t impair his hearing. From some point behind his head he could hear the clatter of hooves and a continuous howl of terror. The clatter increased in volume until the source of the noise encountered the group, dropped off what sounded like a sack of ham-hocks, and retreated before them into silence. The man dragging him stopped. 'What *were* you thinking of, you idiot, running off like that?' he asked. 'We thought you'd buggered off for good this time.' The sack of ham-hocks groaned painfully. 'It was... it was Death, y'see. He wanted me to break into his wine-cellar...' The voice of the one holding by the legs was quiet and disdainful. ‘I see. The most powerful force in the Universe feels too cheap to call a locksmith. Meanwhile, this lumpish doppelganger you volunteered certainly hasn’t been spending his off-hours shovelling peat, judging by the weight of him.’ Oh, dear, thought Rincewind, I've been volunteered. The voice spoke again.‘You’d better know what you’re doing, Vila -- after all, *you* are the one who got us in this situation.’ Oh my, thought Rincewind, I’m in a situation. Another voice spoke up, presumably belonging to the one called Vila, this one mournful and obsequious. ‘I told you, before Death tried to nick me, these two raving derelicts in the bog said we need wizards, and that the best wizards wear flowing robes and pointed hats. All we need to do is find a few wizards and a large concentration of able-bodied sociopaths willing to work for little or no pay, and we’ll be set.’ Oh, gods, thought Rincewind, sociopaths and wizards in concentration -- they’re dragging me *to* the ‘Mended Drum’. Then an obviously (though not to Rincewind) female voice spoke up. ‘Why are those fish staring at us, Avon? That’s unnatural.’ ‘They think we’re going to throw this lump of space-lard in the river, which seems to make a lot of sense right now,’ replied the one named Avon. ‘Hrrrusk... guuuh... Ex...excuse me,’ croaked Rincewind. ‘Where are you taking me? *Why* are you taking me? I’m useless to you!’ The party stopped and looked at their erstwhile companion.‘You *are* a Wizard, aren’t you?’ asked Avon, pointing his little glass probe at Rincewind. ‘Um... Yes,’ replied Rincewind, looking warily at the probe. ‘So then your fellow wizards, the powers that run this Unseen University, would care if we decided to create a few more holes in you than your diety gave you?’ asked Avon, turning a little dial on the base of the probe. Rincewind thought back to Ridcully’s words to him the previous week: ‘Get out of my office, Mincewind. If I ever see you again I’ll poke more holes in you than a Panrovian Hell-Sponge. Besides, those pictures are overexposed and badly composed.’ Rincewind replied decisively. ‘Yes. Yes, I’m sure they would mind. They’d mind quite a bit.’ The man in the leather trousers smiled slightly. ‘Good.’ Rincewind gesticulated towards a nearby street frantically. ‘Eel-Wood street! That’ll take you straight to the ‘Mended Drum’, a large tavern wherein criminals and sociopaths and wizards and combinations of the former converge in large numbers.’ He grinned horribly up at Avon. ‘It’d also be a good place to drop me off, as well, in passing.’ Avon smirked. ‘I *could* do that, that’s true...’ he said, turning away thoughtfully. ‘Or, I could cosh you again and keep you as collateral.’ ‘I’d prefer the former, thanks,’ said Rincewind. Avon turned around quickly, striking Rincewind on the temp with great ease. Rincewind dropped back into unconsciousness immediately, against the concerted wishes of his bladder and other assorted organs. ‘Eel-Tree Street, eh?’ said Vila, looking along the thoroughfare. ‘Sounds uneventful enough. Let’s get going.’ ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com -------------------------------- End of blakes7-d Digest V99 Issue #61 *************************************