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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 <steve.rogerson@MCR1.poptel.org.uk>
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"
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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 <steve.rogerson@MCR1.poptel.org.uk>
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"
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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" <N.Faulkner@tesco.net>
To: "lysator" <blakes7@lysator.liu.se>
Subject: Re: [B7L] Fannishness
Message-ID: <003201be5834$c44ee100$711eac3e@default>
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charset="iso-8859-1"
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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 <steve.rogerson@MCR1.poptel.org.uk>
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"
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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 <jacqueline.thijsen@cmg.nl>
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 <jacqueline.thijsen@cmg.nl>
To: lysator <blakes7@lysator.liu.se>
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 <julia.lysator@jajones.demon.co.uk>
To: lysator <blakes7@lysator.liu.se>
Subject: Re: re [B7L] Flat Robin
Message-ID: <doHwyCAgkux2EwJE@jajones.demon.co.uk>
In message <010b01be57cf$47b5dbe0$2e18ac3e@default>, Neil Faulkner
<N.Faulkner@tesco.net> writes
>The last one I read - Faust/Eric - was distinctly
>unimpressive, and left me feeling that Pratchett might be falling victim to
>his own success. Or maybe it was just a one-off blip of duffness, or maybe
>I just don't have the right frame of mind to appreciate its excellence (not
>unlikely, actually).
That one appeared quite early on, so it wasn't really Pratchett falling
victim to his own success. It was also more of an excuse for lovely
large illos by Josh Kirby than an actual novel, so if you read the
standard size Corgi rather than the large-scale illustrated version, I
think you'd find it pretty disappointing.
Odlly enough, alt.fan.pratchett was liberally scattered with rude
comments last year about how much darker the novels had become recently,
and that this was A Bad Thing because these people bought the books for
a good laugh, not to be expected to think about the human condition. I
decided to keep quiet, in case there were threats about starting up a
new swear box especially for me...
--
Julia Jones
"Don't philosophise with me, you electronic moron!"
The Turing test - as interpreted by Kerr Avon.
------------------------------
Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 19:14:48 +0000
From: Julia Jones <julia.lysator@jajones.demon.co.uk>
To: lysator <blakes7@lysator.liu.se>
Subject: Re: [B7L] Fannishness
Message-ID: <z0l7ViAoCyx2EwMQ@jajones.demon.co.uk>
In message <003201be5834$c44ee100$711eac3e@default>, Neil Faulkner
<N.Faulkner@tesco.net> 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 <Judith@blakes-7.demon.co.uk>
To: Lysator List <Blakes7@lysator.liu.se>
Subject: Re: [B7L] corgi liberator
Message-ID: <Marcel-1.46-0214170447-256Rr9i@blakes-7.demon.co.uk>
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" <pdreadful@hotmail.com>
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
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Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 22:07:41 +0100
From: Jacqueline Thijsen <jacqueline.thijsen@cmg.nl>
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 <Judith@blakes-7.demon.co.uk>
To: Lysator List <Blakes7@lysator.liu.se>
cc: Space City <Space-city@world.std.com>
Subject: [B7L] Redemption
Message-ID: <Marcel-1.46-0214202436-b49Rr9i@blakes-7.demon.co.uk>
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" <j_macqueen@hotmail.com>
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)
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Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 14:44:09 PST
From: "Joanne MacQueen" <j_macqueen@hotmail.com>
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.
<sigh> It is Monday morning...
Regards
Joanne
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Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 14:56:58 PST
From: "Joanne MacQueen" <j_macqueen@hotmail.com>
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. <shrug> 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
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Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 20:20:35 PST
From: "Penny Dreadful" <pdreadful@hotmail.com>
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
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Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 20:25:12 PST
From: "Penny Dreadful" <pdreadful@hotmail.com>
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.
***
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Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 22:38:53 -0700
From: Helen Krummenacker <avona@jps.net>
To: Lysator <blakes7@lysator.liu.se>
Subject: Re: [B7L] corgi liberator
Message-ID: <36C7B2ED.49C2@jps.net>
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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 <avona@jps.net>
To: Lysator <blakes7@lysator.liu.se>
Subject: Re: [B7L] Fannishness
Message-ID: <36C7B729.71FF@jps.net>
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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 <jacqueline.thijsen@cmg.nl>
To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se
Subject: [B7L] Yet another Flat Robin (16), this time by Jacqueline
Message-ID: <39DCDDFD014ED21185C300104BB3F99F10FB10@NL-ARN-MAIL01>
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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."
<sigh>"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 <jacqueline.thijsen@cmg.nl>
To: Lysator <blakes7@lysator.liu.se>
Subject: RE: [B7L] Fannishness
Message-ID: <39DCDDFD014ED21185C300104BB3F99F10FB11@NL-ARN-MAIL01>
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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" <N.Faulkner@tesco.net>
To: "lysator" <blakes7@lysator.liu.se>
Subject: Re: [B7L] Fannishness
Message-ID: <003c01be58b4$c4e74140$661bac3e@default>
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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" <gammablue@hotmail.com>
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.
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Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 23:44:03 PST
From: "Penny Dreadful" <pdreadful@hotmail.com>
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
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Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 23:58:26 PST
From: "Penny Dreadful" <pdreadful@hotmail.com>
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.�
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