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Flippersmack Issue 24
O=
/) FLIPPERSMACK 024
`= culturemag for a penguin generation
http://www.flippersmack.com/
x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Flippersmacking has become a weekly event in San Diego, as staff and friends
gather each Thursday to "do something random." Last week, we made new clothes
out of old ones. We ripped and safetypinned and spray painted on tons and tons
of clothing.. playing dress-up with grown-up children. Tomorrow we're going to
draw until our fingers bleed.
So last weekend Slap, Barkode, and I got to meet Steven Wright. That's in the
Vegas article. Beckett Grey of lit.org fame has joined us with part one of an
exciting short story. Enjoy this first issue of 2002!
Like this eZine? Check out more at http://scene.textfiles.com/
Talk to Flippersmack online through our messageboard at:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/penguinlist/
pinguino
[pinguino@comicartist.com]
tABLE oF cONTENTS
The MidWinter Las Vegas Adventure ................................. pinguino
[poem] bus one twenty four ....................................... SlapAyoda
Professor Jones and the Revenge of the Luddites - Part One .... Beckett Grey
[review] Grand Theft Auto 3 ................................... Stone Dragon
Canadian Packet Switching Networks ............................... The Clone
.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x
The MidWinter Las Vegas Adventure
by Pinguino (pinguino@comicartist.com)
I looked over at SlapAyoda, who was debating passionately with me to kill time.
The topic of the mile was "deadly desert animals," where we decided that the
scorpion was the most undesirable of all. We were driving back from Las Vegas in
a midwinter calm, returning to our suburban San Diego home.
The adventure began on Friday after work, where I zigzagged through traffic
until I reached a small apartment in Hollywood. SlapAyoda and I locked our hands
together as the rickety elevator heaved upwards. At the ding, the doors slid
open and there was Miasma, a New York resident who had been travelling across
the West coast for the past few weeks.
I've known Miasma since the old #ansi (internet chat) days, and he's been a part
of Penguin Palace since at least 1999. Maybe longer. Here was a person I'd been
dying to meet for years, waiting for any excuse to fly to the Big Apple.
The thrill that comes from putting a face to a nickname is tough to describe,
and it sounds pretty stupid to people who don't hold value in that type of
thing. I'll just state that if Miasma were to move down here tomorrow, we would
get along fantastically and go on many crazy adventures together.
With Miasma's big city background, Los Angeles didn't really impress him. I was
determined to make his stay in my favorite town memorable. First we took him to
In-and-Out, home of the healthiest actual-meat fast-food cheeseburger. We then
went to Amoeba Records. Then we traipsed through the ghetto hunting down the
Belmont Tunnel. (see Flippersmack #4 for detailed info about the Belmont Tunnel)
It took me about 45 minutes to find the tunnel, drive to the closest open store
for batteries and flashlights, and park the car near the tunnel entrance. We
walked along the street and found the opening; the knotted rope that we used
last time to scale the side of the wall had been replaced by a board with wood
slabs nailed every two feet or so. The tunnel hadn't changed much really; it was
an awesome experience scaring ourselves half to death with paranoia. (Admittedly
I am the most paranoid of the bunch.. but it was my new car parked outside
exposed to East LA's criminal element!) Yeah, we're pretty damn suburban.
After the tunnel adventure, we headed over to Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles, much
to SlapAyoda's delight. He got the Scoe special #1. For the curious, this
LA landmark is located at La Brea and Pico, and pretty much serves only
cholestoral-clogging chicken and waffles... favorite cuisine of the Stormriders
(rave group).
I groggily dropped Miasma off and beelined to Riverside, using the Force as my
guide. We found Far_Call at UC Riverside around 3am, and crashed on the floor at
his dorm.
The sun beat our eyes awake at 7am, and we left for a four hour trek across the
desert into Las Vegas. We had reservations for Treasure Island, which turned out
to be a really fun hotel. We bounced on the furniture (because we could) then
took off for the Las Vegas Hilton at 4pm. Barkode came in off a plane and met us
at the Star Trek exhibit. By the time we found him, fire warning strobes were
going off all over the place; Quark's kitchen had caught on fire. We were denied
our Hamborgers and Wraps of Khan. So we left for The Orleans, a hotel off the
strip where we had tix to see Steven Wright.
The Orleans was a pretty cool hotel; we ended up at the best buffet in Vegas. It
had a super nice movie theatre built in, and casino crowded with elderly
gambling addicts. We had really good seats at the show, thanks to Slap's hard
work as Steven Wright's webmaster.
When Steven Wright came out on stage, everyone clapped. He glanced at the
audience, said "Thanks" into his mike, and the crowd went nuts. The hour that
followed was an intense plethora of witty comments and random jokes in monotone,
staggered by acoustic guitar-playing and songs about kids killing kitty. We all
had tons of fun at that show; it was definately worth a trip to Vegas to see
live.
Even better than the show was afterwards; we got to hang out backstage and kick
it with Steven Wright. Yay! Slap and him talked business for a bit, and he
asked about my artwork. I ended up telling him the basic plotline to "Tori Do"
and he said that I was weirder than he was =) The best compliment ever.
Eventually we had to leave, and ended up seeing "Orange County" at the Century
theater in the Orleans. Funny movie; Jack Black was the perfect drugged out
irresponsible brother. I recommend waiting for the DVD though.
We made it back to the hotel at 1am; Slap was tired while Barkode and I were
fairly bright-eyed. We scampered downstairs to a new bar that had opened up that
looked suspiciously like Rainforest Cafe. The bartenders had crazy juggling
skillz, so we watched for a while before relocating down the strip at another
place called ShadowBar. ShadowBar was neato; their music selection was perfect.
I guess normally there are girls who dance behind opaque walls but not past 3am,
so we were a few minutes too late. We kicked it on some couches and talked all
night.
Sunday we decided to stalk Quarks until they opened their full resteraunt so
that we could finally get our Hamborgers and Wrap of Khan. We spent two hours
waiting; exploring every nook and cranny of the Star Trek shops, getting
pictures inserted into crew photos, and playing arcade games. I found out how
cool Junkyard Wars pinball really was. After our excrutiating wait, we finally
got our Ferengi meals and were treated to a live chase between Quark, his
brother, and a klingon warrior. Our determination paid off, and the Vegas
adventure was incredible.
Check out Steven Wright at http://www.stevenwright.com/ !!!
-.x.x.x.-
bus one twenty four
by SlapAyoda (slapayoda@yahoo.com)
bare rotor
ground down
washing quietly
perfectly rigid
towards even-mindedness
yellowjackets gather
amber abyss
humming unison
silent crushing
undivided writhing
skeletal fragments
rapid resequencing
joint terror
familiar worlds
collide underneath
-.x.x.x.-
Professor Jones and the Revenge of the Luddites - Part One
by Beckett Grey (BeckettG13@aol.com)
"Scotch on the rocks."
"We have no rocks, sir."
"Sorry, Lyman. I meant ice."
"Right away, sir."
It was one of those nights. The air was damp and chilly, the fog already
rolling through the streets. I sat inside the Binomial Nomenclature and tried
not to think about the rest of the world. I figured a scotch might assist in
this task.
Perhaps I should introduce myself. My name is Professor Jones. My
mother, she was keen on seeing me become a, well, you follow. So I became a
private detective to spite her. Not just any private detective either. My door
reads: Professor Jones, Computers and Related Machines. I'm the City's only
computer crimes detective.
My scotch arrived. Not bad for a city joint, but then this was one of
the older bars. As if to prove this point, Lyman said: "Refill your drink, sir?"
Lyman's a hard worker, and I'm sure he was a top of the line model in his day,
but hell. I've been coming to that bar for three years and every day he asks me
if I want more thirty seconds after the drink touches my lips. I've had to take
up alcoholism to keep up with him.
"No, Lyman, not tonight. I need a client tonight."
"I'm sorry, sir, we serve no clients here."
"Not your fault, Lyman." I paid my dues and got out.
The Binomial Nomenclature looks pretty dingy on the inside, but most
people are forgiving of this fact. This is because they've most likely seen the
outside. From the outside, the building appears to have no windows. This is
because the windows are the same color of the rest of the building, and opaque.
In the daylight, the place looks like some sort of half-buried fossil that just
happens to have a brightly lit sign attached to it. At night it looks like a
haunted house.
I stepped out into the night. I pressed the button for a ride and had
begun buttoning up my trenchcoat, when a voice floated out of the alley.
"Pssst!"
"Pssst, yourself," I said.
"You Jones?"
"That depends who's asking. Who's asking?"
A beautiful young woman stepped out of the alley. I should've known. "I
need your help," she said.
"Considering that you spend your time in alleys looking for a man named
Jones, you certainly need somebody's help."
"I'm serious, Jones."
"What a coincidence. I'm Professor Jones. Nice to meet you, Serious."
For a moment, she looked ready to explode. Then her face relaxed. "I can
pay you."
"Now," I said, "You are speaking my language."
She lived in the posh section of town. The apartment was all-automated,
top of the line mechanics. The moment the door closed, a cord snaked out to
snatch my hat and coat. I skittered back, clutching both. Lord knows what
happens when you try to use the bathrooms.
She strolled into the living room. "Sit," she said. I did, and the chair
immediately tried to do something horrible to my ass.
"It's just shifting to fit the contours of your body."
I muttered something unpleasant.
"You know, for a man specializing in computers, you don't seem to like
technology much."
"Why do you think I specialize in dead ones?"
She sighed. "Tea for two," she ordered. "Mr. Jones, one lump or two?"
"Three."
"Very well. I imagine you're wondering why I've procured your services."
"Not especially."
"Really, Mr. Jones, you are being utterly unhelpful."
"Comes from years of practice. Why did you procure my services?"
"Are you familiar with Harry Trudeau?"
"The owner of Club Emphasis?"
"The same."
"Sure, I know who he is."
"Harry does not own Club Emphasis, Mr. Jones. I do. Harry is a machine.
MY machine. And someone's destroyed him."
"Harry was a machine? I'd never have guessed."
"He was a very advanced model."
"Must have cost you a pretty penny."
She said nothing.
"So who killed him?"
"That's YOUR job, Mr. Jones."
I grinned. "Always worth a try. Poor Harry."
"Yes," she said. "Poor Harry. Drink your tea, Mr. Jones. It's getting cold."
"No thanks. I hate tea."
This time of night, Club Emphasis was hopping. Boys and girls of all
shapes and sizes were shucking and jiving and grinding and bumping and generally
doing everything but hump each other right there on the dance floor. At least,
not yet. Ten thousand different lights strobed on and off, giving the room an
odd sort of motion that detracted not one bit from the complicated diagrams
being sketched out in light on the ceiling. All around me, the smell of liquor,
drugs, and expensive perfumes meant to drive the opposite sex into fits of
passion at the very scent. I took another look at the room. Hmm.
We reached the far side of the club, wall-to-wall mirror that made the
club look roughly the size of a class C starship- minus the walls. The girl -her
name was Annn- just like that, with three n's- placed her hand against the
mirror. Nothing appeared to happen. She looked back- presumably to make sure I
was still there- and nodded. Then she stepped into the mirror. I shrugged- life
is full of surprises- and followed her.
Behind me there was a loud -Shlooop!- , and the noise of the club cut
off. We were in a long, featureless hallway made of flat black metal. Annn
stalked down to the far door and pressed the comm.
"You can't fool them," she said. The door slid open. The largest man I
have ever seen -and I've come across some gorillas in my day- stood on the other
side. He had to slouch to look through the doorway.
"Who's this?" he said.
"Professor Jones, meet Mr. Thomas Grund, my personal assistant."
"Pleased, delighted, frightened, and overshadowed to meet you, Mr. Grund."
"Pleestameetcha."
"I bet."
"Mr. Jones. If you would accompany me to the lounge, where Mr. Trudeau
was murdered."
"I would."
-.x.x.x.-
[Game Review] Grand Theft Auto 3
by Stone Dragon (r_lull@hotmail.com)
Graphics: 20/20
It's amazing what the PS2 can do. An entire city complete with
believable inhabitants in sharp color and incredible detail sprawl out
in front of you at all times.
Sound: 20/20
Snappy gun (and human) chatter, impressive explosions, and the best fake
radio ever created.
Gameplay: 47/50
Hours and hours and hours of fun jobs and side entertainment fill this
game. Add onto it tons of easter eggs, extras, and a star-studded vocal
cast, and you've got a new chocolate-covered, crack-cocaine-like
addiction on your hands.
Ending: 6/10 It's a story about revenge, and you get it - with some
nice extras.
Total: 93% It's a must-buy game that will give you hours of fun even after you
beat it. If you're old enough to handle it, that is.
Alright. In the past I've been a bit critical about the GTA series, as I
believed it was full of shock, but little substance. The graphics were crappy,
the gameplay was frustrating and some of the jobs were confusing. No more.
This game is so incredible, that if you're not offended by some amazing
violence, crude jokes, and adult situations, then you need this game.
Seriously, if you plan on buying one game for the PS2 from 2001, then there is
no question that it must be this game.
A scene unfolds with you, the nameless, voiceless protagonist, and two other
individuals robbing a bank. One of your partners, Catalina, desides to betray
you both as you run from the bank. Then time passes, and you find yourself
being driven to prison. A mysterious van pulls in front of the security
vehicle, and out jump a group of Columbians. They grab one of your fellow to-be
inmates, and take off, leaving you and your new friend 8-Ball to ponder how to
escape for yourselves, but not before the whole bridge you're on crumbles from a
payload of explosives. So begins your tale of revenge. You must work your way
up the ranks of crime, from small-time thug escorting hookers around, to
big-time criminal, assassinating mafia Dons and Columbian druglords.
The city towers above you, in realistic, full 3D splendor. Getting lost will
be very easy. Thankfully there is a small radar to help you on your way.
Headlights reflect from wet streets, throngs of people go about their business
all around you, well-polygoned cars zoom past in the other direction - all in a
fast and impressive manor. The explosions are big and beautiful, and you'll
soon be amazed by how much carnage you can amass in a few glorious seconds.
And what would a city be without the loud sirens and angry gang fights? The
suspension of disbelief is easily accomplished with the amazing array of shouts,
screeches, screams, gunshots, and even the endless sound of thousands of people
walking about town. Listening to the radio in your....uh...borrowed
transportation will give you an idea of how much attention was paid to sound.
Each radio station has more than an hour of stuff to listen to, and there are
eight of them. Oh, and don't forget the magnificent explosion sounds.
Just like the other installments of GTA, this one comes with a wide variety of
jobs, rampages, secrets, and little extras. The jobs are challenging, but not
impossible. Also, they don't have to be done in a set order. You eventually get
several jobs from different sources, and it is possible for some jobs to be cut
short by others. In fact, if completed in a certain order, many jobs can be
skipped. There are a set amount that must be completed to move the plot along,
but you can finish the game with about 10 missions incomplete. This is a shame,
because almost all of the jobs are extremely fun. Zipping back and forth
through the various parts of the city is pure joy. In fact, you can have a
great time just by driving around town, doing stunts, finding hidden packages,
or just seeing how many pedestrians you can run down before you're busted by the
cops. The plot is fast-paced and the people you interact with all have their
own quirks. Look - I could list hundreds and hundreds of great points about
this game. However, just writing this makes me want to play it more. Rest
assured that I will. Let's just say that this game is more fun than any I've
played in years.
The ending is what gets me, as always. It's short, it's unfulfilling, and it
doesn't really cap off the story at all. However, there are a couple of things
that make it worthwhile to beat this game. First off, after completion of the
game, you are dropped back into the fray to pick up any hidden packages, or do
any stunts that you may have missed. Plus (and this is my favorite part), in
one section of the city, there is a tank that you are not allowed to drive,
which may vex you as greatly as it did me. However, once the game is completed,
you may drive this vehicle of mass destruction over every car, every little punk
gangster, and every old lady that's ever gotten in your way. Cars explode upon
first impact with this monster. It is a thing of sheer camo-green beauty.
In summary, buy this game, frame the map that comes with it, and do thumb
stretches before you play, or you may just have as bad of thumbs, as I have
right now (ouch).
-.x.x.x.-
Canadian Packet Switching Networks
by The Clone (theclone@hackcanada.com)
The following is a list of the currently known Packet Switching Networks in Canada.
NAME: DEFINED: DNIC: PROTOCOL:
AGNPAC Government of Alberta X.25
AT&T CANADA Long Distance Services FasPac 3026 X.121
AT&T CANADA Packet Switched Public Data Network 3028 X.121
CNCP PACKET NET Unitel/AT&T Network 3028 X.25
CNCP INFO SWITCH Unitel/AT&T Network 3029 X.25
DATAPAC Links Computers 3020 X.25
DATAROUTE Large Users
DATALINK Small Users
DIALCOM Worldwide Messaging
ENVOY100 Messaging
EXTEN Voice Messaging
FACSROUTE Facsimile
FASPAC Links Computers 3026 X.25
FAXCOM Facsimile
GLOBEDAT *UNKNOWN* 3025 X.25
GLOBEDAT-P *UNKNOWN* 3025
GLOBEFAX Overseas Facsimile
INET 2000 Databases
INFOGRAM *UNKNOWN* 3028
INFOSWITCH *UNKNOWN*
NORTH AMERICAN GATEWAY ATM/Frame Relay Network 3035
POSTPAC Canada Post 3038 X.25
SPRINT CANADA Frame Relay Service 3036 X.121
STENTOR Data Network Gateway 3022 X.121
STENTOR Stentor ISDN Identification 3023 X.121
TELECOM CANADA Datapak Network 3020 X.121
TELECOM CANADA PSTN Access 3021 X.121
TELEGLOBE CANADA Globedat-C Circuit Switched Network 3024 X.121
TELEGLOBE CANADA Globedat-P Packed Switched 3025
TELEPOST Messages At The Post Office
TELESAT CANADA Anikom 200 3039 X.121
TELETEX Text 2861
TMI Communications Mobile Data Service (MDS) 3037 X.25
TRADEROUTE Electronic Data Interchange
TYMNET CANADA WorldCom 3106 X.25
WPMAIL E-mail
+-----------------------------------------------------+
Flippersmack (c) 2001 Flippersmack All Rights Reserved.
Flippersmack does not condone any of the acts in this collection of writings.
yum.
