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Activist Times Inc. Issue 027
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HEYHEYHEYHEYHEYHEYHEYHEYHEYHEYHEY
HEYHEYhey, hey, hey, it's ATI!HEY
HEYHEYHEYHEYHEYHEYHEYHEYHEYHEYHEY
Activist times, inc. November, 88.
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27 .
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SCARED, REAL SCARED by The Happy
Hacker.
Have you ever had your call traced?
Can you recognize that it is being
done?
I've had it described to me many a
time before; but I had no idea the
energy that comes out of a line trace
right out at you. Until:
I dialed my local MCI switching
number. (xxx)xxx-xxxx. I then waited
for
the low mechanical sounding tone that
tells us phreakers it is ok to dial
our
liberated access code. xxxxx, I
autodialed. I touched /a/ /1/ which
autodialed
3055844400. ***Editor's note: I've
just returned from packing all my hack
and
phreak information bringing it all (a
Samsonite attache-ful ) out into the
car
I am borrowing from my car dealer
while they repair my pickup truck on a
recall)
(I tell you this to capture the
atmosphere here. It all goes into the
setting.)
(The need of repair comes in good
timing as I can always say the
incriminating information was in there
when I picked up the car)
Anyways I am out of breath from a
combination of 1) my adrenal glands
flowing like a dripping wet pussy in
heat; and 2) running around the house
looking to get EVERYTHING then bolting
out the door to finally get it all
into
the safety of my loaner car.
Now, I have every intention of using
the "Gomer Pyle" stupidity routine,
saying that a telemarketer told me if
I send $30 cash to him each month:
he'd
give me a WATS line to use for my
telecommunicating pleasure.
I'll say that he called me every
couple of weeks to tell me that my
access code to the wats line had been
changed for my safety.
I believed him. I've been had!!
Anyways, more on that later. Back to
what happened a thousand seconds
ago (1:03 a.m. this Tuesday morning,
January 13, 1987)
So, I dialed the number using my
Radio Shack autodialing tone-dialer.
After what I thought was a successful
connection to the multi-user
mainframe in Orlando, Florida--- the
phone went dead.
Can you recognize the sound of
numbers dialing at about 19200 bps? I
heard it! I knew what it was. Oh, it
had to be at least 28 tones dialed
before
I hung up the phone in pure panic. Up
and down, high and low pitch. I did NOT
wait to hear them verify my phone
number. ( I'm shivering right now, but
I'm
more excited than scared. Oh I'm
scared. Believe me you. But I'm more
excited
than scared. I wanted to learn all the
ins and out of hack-phreak. Well, here
I
am.)
After hanging up the phone I dialed
every local modem number I could
possibly connect to. All busy. I then
got right onto Tymnet and logged onto
Delphi (my own legally owned account).
It's after hanging up from them that
I
began gathering all my nuts into the
brief-case to stow it away, and that
brings us right up to this very moment.
I'm nervous, really nervous. They
haven't called, and I've left the
phone untied for 7 minutes now. I
think a few things here: 1) They
didn't get a
trace. 2) They got one, but can't do
a damned thing about it. 3) They got a
trace, but are legally bound to
calling me only between the hours 8:30
a.m. and
8:30 p.m.
You think I'll sleep one second
tonight? And I've pulled two
all-nighters in a row already.
Vivarin's makers are going to love me.
And to
think, I wanted excitement. An
adventure through the trunk-lines of
society. A
free phone call anywhere in the
continental U.S. at 2400 baud.
Oh well. Now, I just sit and wait.
More on this later...
818-882-9524 foneradio. call tonite!!!
everyday books
----------
an alternative bookshop
(203)423-3474
120 Main St. Willimantic, Ct. 06226
PASS THE ROACH by Yipster
I saw a roach at the Radisson today.
No lie. Right under the carport out
front. He was shiny and gold; walking
across the sidewalk like a trooper. He
must've been lost. "The restaurant is
that-away." Hmmmm. After all that
class,
all that style, all that work, they
still have roaches. What a concept.
Roaches, I can't believe it. At the
Radisson? Nahhhhh. Wow.
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Activist Times, Inc. ATI is a
journalistic, causistic, /
/cyberpolitical /
/organization, / 4 more info?
/trying to / send SASE
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change the world / to:
radically, in less / ATI
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increments. / BRO Box 94
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06340
IRAN: A Fictionfact. By Prime Anarchist
"Mr. Premier. You've just been
implicated in the sales of thirty-eight
mig's and twenty-five million dollars
worth of missiles to mexico . What do
you
have to say for that," asked a TASS
reporter?
"No comment," said the premier,
Raygun Roychiev.
"Aw c'mon. Mr Prem. Say
something."
"He has yet to be briefed by his
advisers," said speaker Lario
speakoffsky. "He will address you all
at an open conference within 36 hours."
The premier rushed off to his
helocopter where he would bolted to
headquarters to be told what to say
the next night in front of both
television
audiences: his, and those capitalist
pigs.
See, it's 1995, and the Soviet
Union had been taken over by
anarchists.
This meant that freedom was prevalant.
This was suddenly a more liberal
country
than Amerika. It WAS inevitable: a
Rehnquist/Reagan royal wedding made
merica
more of a police state; so the Union
had to balance things off with a freer
society. Gorbachv made things very
much freer than Russians had seen in
the
80's but his death marked the birth of
anarchy in the ussr. Hence, much more
liberalism. Jeans, t-shirts, rock
concerts, marijuana; everything was
available
out in the open here in the USSR.
Suddenly the new premier gets
accused of shipping arms to an enemy. A
country who'd been siding with
amerika. a country who'd gotten in
the way of
Union's interests in afganistan back
in the 80's. Now, the press-- TASS,
pravda, ussr today, The Evening, the
Hartforsk Courante, and the New
Yourfsko
Minute all could never forgive a
leader for supplying the enemy.
Fred P. Hack, a journalist for
the Postov, called the Kremlin Press
Office
at 18004249090 to hear and record the
premier's latest speach.
"Whehlll----" said the premier,
who'd once been an adequate actor on
the
big screen and the prime-time
announcer at a local radio station in
des moinex
iowovs. "I'd like to talk to you all
today about the recent accusations
regarding te shipping of arms to
mexico.
I had nothing to do with it. My
advisors tell me to say that we are
doing
all we can to find out just WHO is
shipping arms to this evil empire. An
independent agency working for the KGB
has been working diligently to get> to
the bottom of this all, and they have
found an interesting glitch in all
this:
all the invoices seem to have
signature.
Whehllll. I'll tell you now, and
I'll make myself very clear: I did
not; I
repeat 'did not' sign those shipping
orders. I've hired my own investigators
now, to look into this. And if we find
out that some persons have been using
my
signature to play meteor mercenary to
these mexicans muckmouths, there will
be
TROUBLE.
I remember one day when mother and
me were driving up our west coast, the
big blue ocean to our left, and giant
redwoods to our right. And I
thought..."
"We're sorry mr. Premier," said
the journalist in the back, "but we've
all
got to go to press. It was really nice
chatting with you, and we hope to catch
you at some more teleprompting
screwups."
Just then all the journalists
filed out the room, leaving Raygun
Roychievski all to himself.
"I think we pulled it off," said
te premier, to himself.
"Whehlllll--you're right, I
think we did."
Tune in next time, when...
"We have just outlawed Amerika.
The bombing begins in thirty
seconds..."
THE WESLEYAN EXPERIENCE Prime Anarchist
It's weeks later, and the Wesleyan
thing just ended. Can you believe it?
Basically, admin did a "divide and
conquer" type thing. They agreed to
most
of the demands but the one they
partially agreed to caused an "acting
up" kind
of thing.
They agreed to have regular meetings
discussing divestment allowing students
to the beginning of each meeting.
But an hour into each seeion they're
gonna announce "closed session" and
none
of the students are gonna be allowed
to be there discussing what THEIR
tuition
money'll be doing across the seas.
It's kinda like taxes. Whether you
like it or not, some of your money's
down
there killing Guatemalans and over
there torturing Palestinians.
CITICORPSE: Up To Their Old HiJinks by
The 8th Defendant
Ramon Milian-Rodriguez, chief money
launderer for the Medellin cocaine
cartel, now serving a 30-year prison
term, testified that he personally
laundered $2.4 billion a year in drug
profits through Panama branches of
Citicorp, and Chase Manhattan.
The Citicorpse/Nazi Party relation
goes deeper for sure, but that's as
deep
as I can dig it up.
If anyone has any way of getting
ahold of Rodriguez or any of his frendz
please drop off a line to the BRO Box.
NOTES FROM GROUND LEVEL by dust-f-ski
5 of 4 am. el restaurante. 4 guys
trippin
their brains out. One's got a creamer
in his mouth squeezin it with his
teeth.Anothers sayin "listn, keep it
in your pans, man. Keep it in your
mouth,"
tryin to sound like Humphrey Bogart,
even though the word content is way
off.
Another is smokin a "cig" starin at
the ashtray but focusing on something
far
beyond the tray way way out at least 3
miles from here. His eyes are buggin
way
out of his head. The last one isnt
moving, at all. He's lettin his coffee
sit
there and stagnate, since he's facin
away from me, it's hard to tell what
his
eyes are doing.
The first one says, "I want
scrambled eggs and dead bacon."
The last one still aint movin, but I
heard this come out of his head:
"scrambled. Dead". His lips moved just
a bit. I've got finger dislexia. I
always reverse the 'u' and the 's' in
jsut=just. I don't know why, they're
not
even near each other. We're talking
l-3- h vs r-1-u <left-ring-home versus
right- pointer-up> hehe
Well that's it for ati27.
