Relay-Version: version B 2.10 5/3/83; site utzoo.UUCP Posting-Version: version B 2.10.2 9/18/84; site asgb.UUCP Path: utzoo!linus!philabs!cmcl2!seismo!hao!asgb!flowers From: flowers@asgb.UUCP (Stephen H. Flowers) Newsgroups: net.bizarre Subject: Space Aliens Are Us Message-ID: <777@asgb.UUCP> Date: Mon, 23-Sep-85 09:44:44 EDT Article-I.D.: asgb.777 Posted: Mon Sep 23 09:44:44 1985 Date-Received: Wed, 25-Sep-85 11:05:21 EDT Organization: Burroughs Corp. ASG, Boulder Colo. Lines: 90 For the last several months, I have been trying to figure out which of my co-workers are space aliens. It has been quite difficult, especially since space aliens are notoriously sly. Guess what? After very careful research, I finally decided that EVERYONE is a space alien, even me! My mom wasn't too surprised, though: "I raised a space alien? I always wondered why you were so weird." She was a bit miffed at the suggestion that she was also a space alien, but logic prevailed: "Look. If I'm a space alien, and you didn't adopt me, then you (and/or Dad) must be one, too." She took the news pretty hard. Last I saw her, she was sitting in an old rocker, staring at the walls and mumbling, "Oh, my God! We're all space aliens. Every last one of us." I didn't have the heart to tell her about the banana slugs. Well, after learning the shocking truth, I didn't know where to turn. I was considering investing in a loin-cloth, a good boomerang, and a ticket to Australia when I was telepathically contacted by a Mutant Star Goat. "Don't do it!" the Star Goat commanded me. "Your country needs you." "What country?" I replied telepathically. (Since I knew I was an alien, I thought I might as well start acting like one.) The Star Goat replied: "Any country! Space aliens are needed everywhere! There's a war going on, you know!" Well, this was getting to be completely absurd, so I said to him, "Listen here, Goat! You've been listening to that Disaster Area rock group a bit too long. I just happen to be the Kwisatz Haderach, and I'll go wherever I darn well please!" That seemed to shut him up, wherever he was. Well, I was getting pretty bored. I wanted to fly to Venus in a shiny silver saucer, yack with the locals, leave some applications for the Galactic Brotherhood Fellowship, and then go kidnap some cattle. After all, that's how space aliens are supposed to get their jollies, isn't it? Instead, I get some silly Space Goat telling me to enlist. I was about ready to join a monastery at any opportune moment when I got another telepathic message. "Who is it this time?" "I'm a Level-3 manager at the Sasquatch installation at the South Pole. Are you any good at UNIX? We wrote a device driver for our Death Star that we have hidden on the far side of the moon. Just as we were about to go operatonal, we got a trap type 2, and the whole Death Star crashed into the Tsiolkovski crater. We tried to reboot, but we keep getting a 'Bad block 0' message on the console. Any ideas?" "Well, this is gonna cost you. I charge $20,000 a day plus travel expenses. Since I *don't* do hardware, I hope you got your Death Star pulled out of the crater in good shape." "No sweat. We're running the final remote diagnostics now. Say, if you're interested in doing some other device drivers, we could supply you with real steady work." "Depends on the type of device. I'll consider disks, tapes, plotters, and network attachments, but I won't touch anything involving the number 42." "How about process-control drivers? We've got an anti-matter converter on our moon base that's currently running TRS-DOS. We'd like to convert it to UNIX System V, but none of the Sasquatches on the moon want to tackle it. Want to give it a shot?" "Sure! I never had much trouble with anti-matter converters." "Well, you have to be pretty careful. The last guy who tried it put some printf's in the middle of a critical section of code. That threw off the timing of the matter/anti-matter mixing routine just enough to blow a new 50 kilometer crater on the far side of the moon. I hope *you'll* be more careful. Ortron, our beloved space alien leader, was quite ticked off by that incident. If you succeed, I guarantee you'll rise far within the the space alien hierarchy." "Sounds good. Just have a saucer pick me up about 9:00 tonight at the abandoned railroad yard." Now here was real space alien excitement! None of that boring wombat/slug debate for me. If any of the rest of you netlanders/space-aliens want to travel to exotic new planets and receive exciting assignments on similar advanced UNIX projects, just send your resumes to: ...!ihnp4!southpole!mbase-alpha!ortron Please, no agencies. (And *yes*, Ortron insists that only genuine space aliens will be hired. Sure, it's discriminatory, but let's face it, he owns the whole bloody moon!) Unless that Level-3 manager at the Sasquatch installation was pulling my leg, I'll be zipping on up to Ortron's moon base in a just a few hours from now. Since they have a Usenet feed up there, I'll occasionally post a status report to this newsgroup. (I considered also posting this to net.unix-wizards, but I decided that they probably aren't as interested in anti-matter converters as the readers of net.bizarre.) In closing, I would like to suggest that anyone who doubts that he or she is a space alien ponder on this: if you're NOT a space alien, then what are you reading net.bizarre for? For laughs? Try net.jokes. For interesting facts about obscure animals like slugs and wombats? Try Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom (may God rest Marlin's soul). For technical content? Try net.physics. In short, there is NO rational reason for such behavior. If we have ruled out the rational, then the irrational, however impossible, must be the explanation. And the simplest irrational explanation is that you are hoping to be told that you are indeed a space alien. Well, you are! Now get back to work. Well, I'm off to reboot the Death Star... Brought to you by Super Global Mega Corp .com