mirror-textfiles.com/humor/COMPUTER/hitch.hikers

Date: 12 December 1982  09:21-EST (Sunday)
Sender: HDT at MIT-OZ
From: Howard D. Trachtman <HDT at MIT-MC>
To:   "[dsk:humor;hitch hikers]" at mc
Subject: [VAF: [RHEA::HARDY::GLASSER%Shasta: Submission (possibly redundant)]]

Date: Saturday, 11 December 1982  13:14-EST
From: Vince Fuller <VAF at CMU-CS-C>
To:   INFO-COBOL at MIT-MC, EC0N at TOPSE at CMU-CS-C,
           GM0W at TOPSE at CMU-CS-C
Re:   [RHEA::HARDY::GLASSER%Shasta: Submission (possibly redundant)]

Date: Friday, 10 Dec 1982 09:02:30-PST
From: RHEA::HARDY::GLASSER%Shasta at SU-Score
To:   SF-LOVERS at MIT-MC
Re:   Submission (possibly redundant)

I stole the following from the USENET net.jokes newsgroup.  I thought
that SFL should see it.  I hope that the author does not mind.

				Daniel Glasser
				[USENET address ...!decvax!sultan!dag
				 no reliable ARPA address.]

From: decvax!sultan!decvax!genradbo!grkermit!markm
Newsgroups: net.jokes

					 Hitch Hikers Guide To The Net
					   Episode 1 - First Meeting

One day, not long after tomorrow, Arnold Lint was busy scrolling
through the seemingly infinite reaches of the Net. All of a sudden the
news stopped with an abrupt thud, followed by the angry message "YOUR
NODE HAS BEEN REDUCED TO A LITTLE BLACK, GREASY SPLOTCH IN MY MEMORY
SPACE!!".  No sooner had he assimilated this horrendous event when a
great suction like noise began to eminate from his terminal.  "This is
it", he said to himself, "I'm going to die". The screen on his
terminal the imploded and he suddenly found himself sucked into the
terminal . . . . . . . . . . . .

(Arnold Lint regains consciousness, only to find himself in the
company of an odd trio. One of the trio is an apparently normal human
male (named Rod Perfect) and the second is a voluptuos young woman
(named Gillian). The third is also a normal male (named Xaphod
Gronklebox), except for a third, mechanical, arm and a 12" CRT on his
shoulder that keeps scrolling "Pieces of Eight, Pieces of Eight".)

Rod: Evening all! I'm Rod Perfect, awfully rude of you imploding on
	us this way, you silly twit.
Arnold Lint: Sorry. Am I dead?

Xaphod: Obviously not, you semi-evolved simian! Are all you
	net-landers so stupid. If you were dead would I be talking to
        you? I'm Xaphod Gronklebox, the famous inter-net-al criminal
	and dog	molester - you must have heard of me.

Arnold Lint: Actually, no, I haven't.
Xaphod: Oh well, your loss. I just hijacked this node! It's called
	the Infinity, isn't it wild. Just imagine the places we can go
	in this	baby.

(Rod notices that Arnold's eyes are transfixed on the young woman)

Rod: Her name's Gillian, at least that's what she wants to be called.
     Actually, her real name is Gertrude Floogie, but she didnt't like
     it, so she changed it.

(Arnold Lint detects a mechanical sound to his right. A robot soon
walks into view)

Robot:	My name is Martin. I am sure you will have an
	absolutely awful time on this node, I always have.
	I do not know why they insist on trying to do
	things to change the Net, they can only make it
	worse.  No matter what happens, some one always
	says something stupid and ruins everything. Then
	someone else feels obliged to a rebuttal, and on
	and on it goes. How awful. Still, what do you
	expect from an imperfect Net.

Rod: Martin is a bit, well, depressing.
Xaphod: He's a real downer, man!
Martin: That's right, ridicule me. See what I care. I'm only an
	android. Just another example of cruelty in this awful Net.

(********************************************************************
The "Hitch Hikers Guide to the Net" defines cruelty as having to see
constant repetitions of the same salutory comment in more than 20
messages.  History shows that a war was fought over the repetition of
the statement "If you don't like my name - push off, signed xxxx"
appearing in 200 messages from the node of Moronicus. Since that
time, any time a salutory message is used more than 20 times,
subsequent violators have their pelvis screwed to a cake stand while
they are forced to watch repeats of "The Gong Show".
********************************************************************)

Arnold Lint: Well, what do we do now? 
Xaphod:	We're on our way to Netrothea. (The 12" CRT on his
	shoulder now starts repeating "Polly want a
	sedative, Polly want a sedative") There's supposed
	to be all sorts of wild and amazingly great things
	in that place!

Rod: Martin, set course for Netrothea!
Martin: All right, but you're not going to like it.
Gillian: What will we find on Netrothea?
Xaphod: Well, there's supposed to be a huge stockpile of data there
	that we can sell to the Net for millions.
Arnold Lint: A stockpile of what?
Xaphod: Data! Data! You idiot. Knowledge is power in the Net. All
that data has been accumulating over the centuries. Just imagine the
amazingly amazing philosophical Net-discussions that it stored. I mean,
the Net is the focal point of all wisdom. Just think of all that
smart stuff! Wow!

(********************************************************************
The "Hitch Hikers Guide to the Net" insists that the focal point of
all knowledge in not the Net itself. Rather, it is the fourth stall in
the mens room in Grand Central Station. No one has ever been dumb
enough to waste time disproving this wild claim, so the publishers
avoided some nasty laws suits.
********************************************************************)

Xaphod: We'll have millions! We'll by everything! No, we'll have
	billions, trillions, . . . .

(Xaphod begins to shake violently and froth at the mouth, then he
falls over backward. A few seconds later he comes to.)

Xaphod: Well, lets go!
Rod: You all right?
Xaphod: Yah, sure. Just the excitement of new conquests.
Arnold Lint: Looked more like Flamers-syndrome to me.
Xaphod: You should talk, you  key-pounding half-wit.
Gillian: If we're going to go, lets go already.
Martin: Do we really have to?
Rod: YES!

(Just as the node starts on it's way, a host of flame-shaped vessels
became visible on the scanners)

Rod: Funny you should mention Flamers-syndrome.
Xaphod: Oh, hell!
Gillian: What are they?
Xaphod:	Damn, those are ships belonging the Flamers. They
	go after anything, no matter how pointless or
	unimportant it is. If they catch us, we could
	suffer permanent brain damage, or worse yet - join
	the Moral Majority

Arnold Lint: So this it it, we're all going to die!
Martin: I told you that you would like it.
Others: Oh Shut Up!

	******************** End Of Part 1 ********************

Will Arnold and his new travelling companions escape the Flamers? Or
will they end up playing rock albums backwards at 66.6 RPM? For the
answers to these, and countless other pointless questions . . . Tune
in next time . . .  same Net-time . . . same Net-channel


[Part 2 will appear in tomorrow's digest. --Stuart]