**************************************************************************** ### # # ### ##### ## # # # ## ## # # ### ##### ## ### ### # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #### ### # # # # # # # # # ## # #### ### # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # ### # ## # # # ## ## ## ### # # # # # ### ____________________________________________________________________________ # # ### #### # # #### # # ### #### ##### # # ##### #### # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #### ### ### ##### # # #### ##### # # ##### ### # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # ### ### # # # # #### # # ### # # # ##### ##### #### *****NUMBERS 161 TO 165***********BY DANIEL BOWEN (tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu)***** "Continental Toxic Custard" 161 161 161 1 161 1 161 161 the 161st edition of1the Toxic Custard6Workshop Files 161 161 161 6 161 1 6 1 161 161 161 161 1 1 161 161 And now here is the news. The Prime Minister, Mr Paul Keating was severely embarrassed by the admission yesterday that he had wet his pants during the previous week's session of parliament. Mr Keating attempted to divert the questioning of persistent journalists by trying to remind them of Opposition Leader John Hewson's loud trumpeting fart last month, but to no avail. A spokesman for the Continence Alliance denounced the Prime Minister's danglies, declaring that any self-respecting leader of this country should have an iron-clad bladder. He also said it was probably just a publicity stunt to coincide with Continence Week (it's this week folks, I'm not kidding!), and described Mr Keating as a political "wet". - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ___ ________________________/ / "The Spirit /## # # # # # #CustardAir/ of Custard" \__________\ \__________/ \___\ Fly CUSTARD Airlines to all the major cities of the world! (Like Dubbo, Broken Hill, and even Bendigo!) Our LUXURY cabin service includes a free tissue with every fifth passenger. Every passenger gets a FREE set of headphones(*). And our unique SELF-SERVICE approach to snacks and refreshments and parachutes ensures that you SAVE, because we don't have to pay for someone to stand at the front of the plane rabbiting on about those safety procedures that you'll forget in the panic of a real emergency. Speaking of which, by flying CUSTARD Airlines, you can be assured that we have some of the best safety procedures in the world, mainly because we get to practice them so much. And in the rare event of an imminent unexpected zero altitude arrival in a descending mode situation, all CUSTARD Airline passengers will benefit from our ALL NEW "You'll Never Know" policy of in-flight announcements. So the next time you go to the airport to fly into the sunset, fly CUSTARD Airlines, and wave your family goodbye! (*) Return to staff after flight. Movies/music cost additional fee. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I'm panicking more now than a type-setter who has got an Ikea catalogue to print and has entirely run out of umlauts. So we cross once again to the Oppression Olympics where Martin Sprot is about to compete in the final of the 100 Metres Suspect Submission Sprint. A little later will be the semi-final of the 400 Metres Bollocks Kicking Relay, and the first heats of the Water Torture Diving events. And of course, the Javelin has to be seen to be believed, although the shooting events are fairly predictable... - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Ah, so you're reading this crap again, are you? What a sad loathsome lump of a human being you are. Just think of all the things you could be doing right now if you weren't subjecting your eyeballs to this garbage. All the things I'd like to do Like walking in the park or in the zoo Or listening to a new song by U2 Rather than read this Custard. I'd rather read an intelligent book Or give that new TV show a look Come to that, I'd rather cook Than read my Toxic Custard. Better to go out spraying walls Or rowing over big waterfalls Measuring Michaelangelo's David's balls Much better than Toxic Custard. Queue up for tickets to see Megadeath Or eat lots and lots, get garlic breath I'd rather lie on benches and get drunk on Meths Than to read my Toxic Custard I'd prefer to watch reruns of Neighbours Or get sick on Baskin Robbins 31 flavours Or even publicly hail L. Ron as saviour It's better than reading Custard Rather clean out wild pigs muck Watch some musical that really sucks Because all in all I could not give a fuck For reading any more Toxic Custard ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ That's probably an excellent time to abruptly end this edition of Toxic Custard. 'Night. Oh, but before I go, can I just mention that back-issues from the "golden" age of TCWF are still available by ftp? Mail here for details. Where's here? Well, try pointing your mailer towards tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu I hope you recognise a blatant plug and line padding bit when you see it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Copyright (c) 1993 Daniel Bowen I -- t Daniel Bowen, NTC Systems------|\ /\ /\ /\ seemed /\ Telecom Australia, Melbourne---| \ / \ / \ / \ /like a / \ dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au-| \ / \ / \ / good idea\at/ \ / TCWF stuff: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu| \/ \/ \/ \/ the time \/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Retrospective Toxic Custard" /\/\/ /\/\/ \ \ /\/\/ \ \ \/\/\ Toxic Custard \ \ / / \ / / / Workshop Files / / \ / \ /\/\ \ \/\/ \/\/\ \ \ / \ / \ / / \ / Number 162 - 23/8/93 / /\/\ \/\/\/\ / \ \/\/ \/\/\ by Daniel Bowen Toxic Custard was three years old on the twelfth of this month, and tonight, we flash back to those early days of August 1990, and take a (slightly less topical than it could have been) look at how TCWF was born. "THE MAKING OF TOXIC CUSTARD" [File footage of crumbling, flooded corridor in F Block, Monash Uni Caulfield] DENNIS: Good evening. I'm Dennis Monkeygland. It was here, in the shallowed halls of Monash University, that Toxic Custard as we know it, was born. But where and why was it actually written? And how did it get its wacky, zany off-the-wall Pythonesque-type name? Tonight, we'll take you back to the earliest days of Toxic Custard, and reveal how TCWF was created. DANIEL: Well, back in them days of '90, I was in the second year of my course, a Bachelor of Pretending Cobol Is Structured, failing Photocopying 215, and me and me mates had just discovered the Internet. We suddenly realised that there was more to computer networks than just using Phone and Talk to annoy people in the next room, or sending Mail to tell people to meet you for lunch and Tetris at the corner shop. DENNIS: So how did the concept for TCWF come about? DANIEL: I was messing around with my mate Bw.. err Brian Smith. Hi Brian, if you're reading. And another pal of ours, Ray Chan, who was in an Electronics, Robotics And Other High-Tech Stuff course, came up with an idea for an electronic magazine, called "The Serial Saga". Hi Ray, if you're reading. We thought this was great, and immediately mugged him in the corridor and stole his idea. Ray never actually wrote anything, but did manage to create a monster robot which went berserk the next semester, and killed 5 lecturers due to a faulty diode in its corduroy detection circuits. DENNIS: So TCWF was born. Or perhaps hatched. DANIEL: Yeah, a little TCWF baby was hatched on 12/8/93, and immediately set about crapping all over the floor. Bw.. err Brian wrote a separate serial called Rocket Roger, about a guy whose name was... umm... Roger. At first both came out twice a week, TCWF on Mondays and Wednesdays, and RR on Tuesdays and Thursdays. But that didn't stop half the known galaxy confusing the two. I put that down to lack of intelligence. Now RR comes out about as often as Halley's Comet, and TCWF comes out whenever I bloody well feel like it, which is about once a week. Usually on a Monday. Around 10pm. Eastern Standard time. DENNIS: So who thought of the name "Toxic Custard Workshop Files"? DANIEL: I guy I knew in high school. Me and my mates Mark Bainbridge and David Holicek (Hi guys, if you're reading), were trying to think up a name for another aborted project in amateur TV. David thought of the phrase "Toxic Custard Workshop" on a number 700 bus on the way home in 1988. David went on to reach the very end, and built a Toxic Waste Dump for diseased camels, so it was quite prophetic. [Footage of old 8-bit computers, rusting and falling to bits under the weight of their own keyboards] DANIEL: Originally I wrote TCWF on my old BBC computer at home. I kept it for sentimental reasons, but let's face it, who the hell uses a computer with less than 32Kb of RAM these days? Anyway, in those days it was sent up to the Uni mainframe by 300 baud modem. Those were the days... Shit, I just remembered, I still do that, since my 2400 baud modem fell off the desk. DENNIS: How did you find readers? DANIEL: Well, originally we hadn't had the idea of posting stuff to UseNet News. So I just sent it to people around the campus who wanted it. As well as anyone else whose username we happened to stumble across. We bailed people up in the corridors and demanded "Username or your life!" Of course, by getting mailed TCWF and Rocket Roger, they lost both. A couple of them got angry, in fact two unhappy Rocket Roger readers attacked Brian one day with a spare keyboard someone left lying around. Rammed the DIN plug right up his nose. I think some of it's still up there. DENNIS: So how many people read the first issues? DANIEL: Seven people read the first ever issue, which was pretty pathetic. We started a little "subscription war" of sorts, though TCWF and RR plugged each other regularly. The numbers of both increased steadily every week, and today, TCWF is read by more than ten people, and an estimated 37 on News. DENNIS: So over the years, what's changed? DANIEL: Oh, not very much. Umm... my alias; the sideways messages came and went; linked stories of the early issues; switching to a "real" mailing list; very late News postings; mailing on Mondays instead of Sundays; updates to the ftp sites, 'cos everyone responsible seems to have changed jobs or disappeared mysteriously; the almost-demise of TCWF at issue 50; TCWF's inclusion in the Freaks Anonymous list, which has resulted in loads of Freaks Anonymous people mailing me saying "why are you sending me this shit"; excerpts in the Naked Wasp student newspaper; an unbroadcast tape made for Monash Uni radio; an excerpt in the National Telemarketer magazine at work (Hi Wes, if you're reading); editing on a PC rather than the Beeb; occasional inclusion of GIF cartoons... DENNIS: Errr thank you. DANIEL: Usenet-type signatures; bothering to bung a copyright on the end... DENNIS: Shut up! DANIEL: Well you did ask. DENNIS: Err, and finally, what have been your favourite bits out of Toxic Custard? DANIEL: The first Shakespeare parody (#19); the Fascist Fuckwits' Federation (#48), which one twerp actually publicly attacked as being racist; God's database (#61); the appearance of Irene Busybody (#72); the Popsicle "Phoenix" take-off; Bowen NURK Power (#96) and the Cosmo/Cleo wars of #125. DENNIS: Is that all? DANIEL: Well, all that I can think of for the moment. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It is your privilege to have been reading Toxic Custard #162. And normally most people would expect to pay for the privilege. You have - but you just don't know it yet. Some back-issues are available by ftp; reply, or send mail to tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu for details. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Copyright (c) 1993 Daniel Bowen -- Daniel Bowen, NTC Systems------| Next week... well, something Telecom Australia, Melbourne---| a little less self- dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au-| indulgent, at the very TCWF stuff: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu| least. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Aging Toxic Custard" Speaking as a member of the dominant species on the planet, I am proud to lay down my fingers in honour of the dominant humorous computerised newsletter of your screen of the moment, that most shunned of electronic journals, the very humble and dare I say it (yes, I dare), superfluous, T O X I C |||| ||| ||||||||||| C U S T A R ||| D || ||| W O R K S H ||| O ||||||P||| ||||||||||| F I L E S ||| ||| ||| |||| 3 0 t h A u ||| g ||||||u||| ||s|||||||| t || || || || Old people have been depressing me lately. You've seen them, tottering onto the tram waving their 60 Plus cards and holding the rest of us up. It's almost enough to make you run up to them and scream "you're gonna die before me! Hahahaha!!" And if you're of the male persuasion, you'll have noticed how grandparents always send birthday cards that have captions like "For You, Grandson", and have pictures of flowing waterfalls, or antique motor cars. It's like an entire generation of people out there on the planet that haven't heard of Gary Larson or Purple Ronnie. Very sad. Of course, you can get rid of old people by shipping them off to the infamous Bingo Camps. For a very reasonable fee, a gang will come and kidnap your grandparents, tie them up, and take them away to a Bingo camp, where they will be mercilessly tortured with games of Bingo, Andrew Lloyd-Webber soundtracks, Dorothy L Sayers stories, and episodes of The Good Old Days. Some Bingo Camp prisoners are even taken overseas, or split into special interest groups, where the rules of Bingo tend to vary slightly. Instead of shouting "Bingo!" when you have all the numbers, the following silly exclamations apply: - in Mexico: "Gringo!" - in Australia: "Dingo!" - in Liverpool, England: "Ringo!" - for the chauvinists: "Jingo!" - for language experts: "Lingo!" - alcoholics: "Stingo!" - bird watchers: "Flamingo!" - botanists: "Eryngo!" and possibly the dodgiest one of the lot, - in the Dominican Republic: "Santo Domingo!" [I can see this Rhyming Dictionary is going to come in very handy] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - TOXIC TALES - "Kaga, the Unfortunate Rabbit" Once upon a time, in a field quite nearby to the enchanted forest that crops up in every bloody fairy tale, there lived a little rabbit, called Kaga. He was called that because that's what the label says on the monitor next to this one. See? Over there ------------> Kaga was a very furry rabbit, and had a happy time with all his friends in the field, including his bestest ever buddy, Sally Fieldmouse. Unfortunately though, Kaga had one little problem, which involved personal hygiene. (I won't pretend I know how to spell the word hygiene at this time of night, but I'll let the spelling checker work it out. Now I've said that, the spelling looks right. Tell you what, bet you $5 it's okay. I'll give you the result at the end of the story.) Kaga's little problem was of under-paw smells, and was complicated by the fact that they don't make Rexona for rabbits. And so it was that after a hard day of doing what rabbits do best - eating grass and lettuce - Kaga tended to arrive home at the burrow feeling very smelly, and, in all honesty, quite sodden with sweat. Sally Fieldmouse suggested that Kaga bathe himself in the nearby water more regularly than the twice a month that he tended to. She also offered other solutions, including detergent, alcohol, and a rather nasty acid that grumpy Farmer Nitrate had left a canister of nearby. But Kaga was determined to remain sweaty and filthy, as he was hoping for a spot in the next Hare Yakka ad. And that's how this story ends - at a stalemate, with no positive conclusion. Hmm. The End And the moral of the story is: Don't expect a decent ending when the author is tired and just wants to get to bed. PS. Hygiene was right. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I was walking up the street today, and saw a van pull up outside KFC. And a guy got out, and started carrying cardboard boxes inside. And on the cardboard boxes it said "KFC Fresh Salad". Hmmm. Which makes me wonder(*). If you eat food that's about to expire, doesn't that mean it goes off while it's inside your body? Maybe perishable food should include a "digest by" date? Next week I'm going to see that new movie about the prehistoric butcher: Jurassic Pork. (*) Actually, it didn't make me wonder, but it's a convenient link. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - There are many things I sometimes wonder Like why there's so much noise with thunder Why the garbos scatter the bins And are there cars for Siamese twins I wonder why greeting cards cost three bucks Why only smart-arses get the dux Why people at parties arrive late Why fish don't realise worms are bait ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I also wonder why we've reached the end of another Toxic Custard. Because we have, that's why. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Copyright (c) 1993 Daniel Bowen -- Daniel Bowen, NTC Systems------| I'm an Aussie boy Telecom Australia, Melbourne---| I was brought up wrong dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au-| Hear me belching TCWF stuff: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu| And wear my thongs ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Satanistic Toxic Custard" Toxic CustarD workShop fIles -\ / | \ W N A B tOxic cUstaRd worKsHop FiLes \ |___ |__\_ R E D N O toXiC cuStArd WoRkshOp filEs \ \ \ \ I T B I L W N toxIc cusTard wOrkshoP fileS \ \__| \ T Y E E -/-/-/-\-\-\-/-/-/-\-\-\-\-\-\-/-/-/-/-/-/-\-\-\-\-\-/-/-/-/-\-/-/-\--\- - Excuse me, can you give me directions? Certainly. Empty contents of sachet, half into a large cup, and half all over your knees. Pour cold water into cup (and on your knees), before striking a match and setting fire to the stove. Crack eggs and place yolks and shells in a bowl, before mixing with contents of the cup and dropping in a Lego block. Bang head on cupboard getting out spoon, and catch sleeve in stove flame. Collapse in pain, pulling bowl and contents over your head and fall to floor. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - As I sit here in the wasteland that is the computer/spare room, I ponder the world around me. What a mess. The room I mean. This proves how uninspired I am at the moment. The sheer drudgery of just looking through the bookshelf, reading all the old ten year old computer books on the shelf that's at eye-level. Pretty sad, eh? DANIEL'S GUIDE TO OPENING THE DOOR We've all been in that situation, haven't we. The door knocks, and you suspect there might be someone outside making all the noise. The key thing to do is BEWARE. In fact, the absolute best thing you can do at this point is simply to ignore the knocking, and hope that eventually it will go away. The may be a rather unsociable way to deal with things, but then, so is screaming in people's faces when they're trying to take a leak. For some people, ignoring the problem of knocking doors may not be sufficient. For one thing, the person at your door could be one of those types who will continue knocking for some hours, which, even if it's not annoying, will most certainly take some of the shine off your door. At this point, it is often advantageous to have a "peek hole" in your door. This is a marvellous device that enables you to peek at whoever's attacking your door, without letting them know that you're actually checking them out from behind your door, deciding whether or not to let them in. I recommend getting a peek hole for your door. Though if you're only bothering to read this guide now that there's someone knocking at your door, it may be too late. So, if possible, perform a "peek" security check to see which door knocker category the knocker falls into, and thence behave appropriately: THE BAD DOOR KNOCKERS: * Neighbour wanting to borrow sugar - Ignore/pretend you're not home, until they give up and go and see another neighbour, who hopefully won't be as selfish and nasty as you * Masked knife-wielding maniac - Shout very loudly that you're going to call the Police and get out your grandfather's shotgun that he killed a battalion of Germans with during the war * In-law of any description - (see previous) * Jehovah's Witnesses, Mormons, or other religious CULTs - Answer the door wearing a satanic mask, edging the door just open enough to let them see the flames and pentangle that you've drawn on the livingroom floor in chalk. And who says you're just having a little joke? THE GOOD DOOR KNOCKERS: * Neighbour wanting to return sugar - Open the door, take the sugar, and slam it in their face before they can open their mouths to borrow something else * Expected friend/s with an appointment and positive identification - Shine spotlight, check ID, let in, frisk then invite into the other room for a seat and a drink. And don't take your eyes off them for a minute. * Man from Tattslotto - Check ID, check you actually *entered* Tatts this week, invite into the other room for a seat and a drink, and demand the money. And leave the accompanying TV journalists out in the cold street. That will annoy them no end. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - YOU HAVE REACHED SATAN'S QUESTION LINE. WHAT IS YOUR QUERY? Hi, we're about to have a son, and we'd like him to grow up as a bad Satanists just like us. Are there any names that you recommend we use? YES... PETER, ANDRE, JASON, DONOVAN, ANDREW, LLOYD... And what do you, as the devil, the evil one, think of KFC? LOVE THAT HOT AND SPICY... - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Excuse me, can you give me directions to the boat shed? Yeah, sure. You go down that street there, to where it turns, but you don't turn. You keep walking towards the traffic lights, until you see the statue with pigeon crap all over it, and you go around that, down the grass verge, jump over the hedge (watch your danglies), then run down the hill onto the main road and land under a car and end up in hospital. Then you go out of the hospital back entrance, and get hit by an ambulance. So then you go out of the front entrance, left down the driveway, straight down the street until you get to the bridge, where you jump off the middle of the south side, swim to the east bank, and you can't miss it. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - YOU HAVE REACHED SATAN'S QUESTION LINE. WHAT IS YOUR QUERY? Hi, I'm just ringing to find out if it's okay to kill my grandmother. YES. KILL AS MANY GRANDMOTHERS AS YOU CAN GET YOUR KNIFE INTO. Oh, great. Okay! Bye! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Bye! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Copyright (c) 1993 Daniel Bowen -- Daniel Bowen, NTC Systems------| TCWF back-issues are available Telecom Australia, Melbourne---| from.. oh hell, if you don't dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au-| know by now, I'm not about TCWF stuff: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu| to tell you. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Sponsored Toxic Custard" TCUDWHOESereper19ityDlBHaonuaotdTAniphit?PlMaItdBeTwIntaleOe OCSROSPLNb1Stb1h9rtBaeonsyetlBheoydchTsiIoeeieWlecootsAtWtfm XITARKFIum65em3t3WenniweAnAclyerTrDeerShfSaslMouNiKnWaToasTi -------------"Don't bother; it's not worth it"-------------- There's nothing more necessary than shoes. You can walk down the street naked in most weather without undue harm, but you'll be regretting it the instant you step on a snail. So we present: DANIEL'S GUIDE TO PUTTING ON YOUR SHOES The first thing to do is to check that you're not an amputee who is missing both legs. If so, I'm afraid there won't be much to interest you in this section. Unless you're in the habit of placing shoes on other appendages, or you have one or more false legs that you regularly change the shoes on. This may be the case if sometimes you are required to attend formal occasions, and hence to wear formal shoes, but other times you wear more casual (false) footwear. On the other hand, perhaps you just have different legs for different occasions. For the rest of us however, one of the most mundane things is that tiresome part of getting up when it becomes necessary to place our feet into protective compartments for the comparatively simple task of walking down the street. So, step two (har har) is to find a pair of socks. Depending on your outlook on life, your visual abilities, and the state of your laundry, these may be matching. Or not. You may encounter some difficulty in determining how many of the socks you find are inside- out. This will vary between zero and two, and careful inspection in association with plenty of light will reveal the true figure. Anyway, once you've found two socks, place them carefully on your feet. The next thing to do is to determine which shoes you wish to wear. Unlike socks, virtually all people ensure that they wear only *pairs* of shoes. So while the Sock Matching Confirmation rate is only around 79.3%, the Shoe Matching Confirmation rate is up at around 99.8%. Which is quite a lot, when you're talking about percentages. Now comes a tricky bit. You have to untie the shoelaces on your shoes that you were too fucking lazy to untie when you last took them off. There are a number of possible situations you may be in at this point: FINGERNAILS: SMALL KNOT IN LACE? SHOE UNTYING STATUS: ------------ ------------------- -------------------- Sharp None Great! Sharp Yes Tricky, but you'll get it Nonexistent None Great! Nonexistent Yes Oh shit. Have you considered Velcro? Remember, if needs be, you can always cut the laces out and get them replaced. But you may need to wear thongs on your way down to the shoe-lace emporium. Once you've got the shoe-laces into their premium untarnished untied state, we recommend that you proceed in inserting your feet into the shoes. Make use of a shoe-horn if necessary. The shoe-horn originated in Athens around 600BC, when it was used as an instrument during sandal makers' ceremonies. The next step is tricky, and it is to tie the shoe-laces together. Enough has been written on this subject to tear down a major forest should anyone order a reprint, so here's just a very simple summarised method of how to tie your own shoe-laces. Lace A comes out of the left-hand side of the shoe, and lace B comes out of the right. Pull lace B over lace A in an 'X' formation. Loop lace B back under lace A through the gap between laces. Pull both laces tight to form the first knot. Stop pulling when you feel the blood starting to give up trying to reach your foot. Lace B is now where lace A was, just to confuse things. Next take lace A and form a small loop between the thumb and forefinger of your right hand, using your left thumb to form the loop. Loop lace B around the lace A loop, trapping your thumb with it. Then, making a small loop in lace B, pull it through the hole between lace A and the first knot. Drag it through with your right hand. Oh wait, that was already holding the first loop. Maybe the left hand can help. No, that's busy maintaining the B loop. If you can get a foot in... no, they're both in their stupid shoes. Wait wait wait. Supposing you get a small stick that you can loop the laces around, and then... oh sod it, just get someone else to do it. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - And now, a word from our sponsors. Have YOU ever considered what was missing from your life? Okay, so you've got your stereo VCR, your hyperbolic hologrammatic VisuMass television, and those nifty MegaDecibel SuperLoud speakers, all ready to blast you out of your seat... but have you ever considered gardening as a hobby? Gardening is not only therapeutic, it's exciting! But who gives a fuck about gardening, you might ask? The whole concept of gardening shrivels into insignificance when compared to the almighty power of the LORD. For it is He who has given us our watering-cans, ride-on lawn-mowers, and those annoying weeds that just won't come out no matter how hard you pull. It is the will of the LORD that has brought about the existence of Bass Boost buttons. So come all ye boys and girls, and congregate now at the Holy Trinity Disco of the Lord. Be sure to dress in sensible shoes, and boogie your way to the biggest religious music of the A.D period. And when you've finished with that, go outside into the adjacent park with shotguns and blast the crap out of every living thing you can find. Phew, that was scary. I almost went religious on you. That's what large quantities of Nut Mix chocolate can do to you. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - A few short words about videos: Ever noticed how pamphlets advertising VCRs all list the features inside little rounded boxes? Curious. Maybe it's some kind of rating system so you know how great the VCR is from how many boxes there are. And how come video tapes come in "High Standard", "Premium Extra- High Grade", and so on... but no "Average Grade" or "Poor Standard"? Sometime I really want to find an E180-SG (Shit Grade) so I can record programmes I don't like very much onto it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You probably all know by now that some TCWF back-issues are available by anonymous ftp. And if you ask, I'll even tell you where from! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Copyright (c) 1993 Daniel Bowen -- Daniel Bowen, NTC Systems------| "Stormin'" Norman Schwarzhopf has Telecom Australia, Melbourne---| introduced to the world his dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au-| younger, more timid brother: TCWF stuff: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu| "Squirmin'" Herman. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ the Toxic Custard Workshop Files by Daniel Bowen, Melbourne, Australia Copyright (c) 1993, 1994 Daniel Bowen. May be freely distributed without profit provided this notice remains intact. For subscription information, contact tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu