The World's Only Goth Lawyer posted this in 1993, on the Fidonet echo "Life, The Universe And Everything."
nk> argh! pardon me for having an opinion, but watching test cricket is
nk> like watching a 660-meg hard disk low-level format.
Only if you're interested in the score. The statistics are qool too ,
things like "This is the best bowling by a left-handed red-haired English
fast bowler on the Trent Bridge pitch against a team other than Pakistan
since 1951 ... oops no it's not , that's six runs. That makes it the
highest batting stand by two left-handed non-metropolitan Australian
opening batsmen on any English ground except Lords' in a rain-affected
match since the first world war."
Ignore the fact that the team are comprised of boofhead sportsmen -
examine the astonishing grace as they battle heroism and hubris. If you
can distract Marion *.* from the testosterone display , maybe she would
commentate on the sorcery for you.
Cricket demonstrates that there's class and then there's form. Other
sports just require skill and health.
The Lawyer has a way with words.
It started on IRC.
nikola>: den: how about I ring you, say "two of clubs" and hang up?
I chortled and DCC'd him my phone number. I thought about sending him my fax number too, but didn't.
The next day, I was going through the Sydney Morning Herald employment section when I noticed an awful lot of employers have numbers you can fax your resume too.
I stared at the fax numbers.
I was bored.
Two Of Clubs.
I wrote the word FRUITBAT across the page and wrote down the fax number of every job ad the pen put a mark on. Then I made a fax that consisted of a blank A4 page with "Two Of Clubs" in the center in 12 point Times New Roman. I disabled the fax software banners and footers and sent the page off to all the companies.
A week later I was at a job interview. As I sat down I saw pinned to the notice board behind his head a sheet of A4 paper, blank except for the words "Two Of Clubs." I tried to not smile.
He noticed my look. "What do you think of that fax?"
"It's very... Blank."
"Some sicko sent it to our employment section."
"Yes! What sort of person sends a fax like that?" he snorted. "I mean, 'Two of clubs'! Why?"
Why not? I thought. "Er, I don't know," I said.
"I tell you what," he waved a finger at me, "When those two psychologists get a personality profile I'll know who NOT to employ!" he finished. I blinked at him. They had two trick-cyclists doing a personality profile? On me? "And another thing, according to ASIO that sicko has sent the same fax to other companies. We're pooling our resources to find him."
"Oh." ASIO? Fucking hell.
"I have five people liaising with others."
"Oh." I blinked at him again.
"I mean, *why* would anyone do that?"
"Maybe he was bored?" I suggested. I stood suddenly. "Well, good bye."
He was astounded. "But I haven't interviewed you!"
"No. I don't think I want to work for a company which will devote resources to something as trivial as a fax with "two of clubs" written on it."
On my way back to North Sydney station I stopped at a newsagent to buy an envelope, a stamp and a pack of cards. I wrote my prospective ex-employer's name and address on the envelope in my neatest hand writing. Then I mailed the two of clubs to him.