Nothing Doing

From: (Kid Ginsu)
Date: 24 Apr 1995 22:36:14 GMT

This shouldn't even be happening, not by a long shot...I mean, If this
whole alt.slack thing was ever meant to get off the ground surely it
would have happened by now. HOW long ago was this place founded? And
still, to this day, it's what it's always been-a bunch of disconnected,
disenfranchised long-hairs, hippies and outcasts screaming at each other
to get out the energy that they could have been using accomplishing
something tangible, like mimeographing leaflets and making up new drinks
to serve at cocktail parties. So excuse me if I haven't appologised, Mr.
Perfect and Mrs. Always On Time, but there are just a few threads from
this dammnedable thing that have been running through my weekened and
enfeebled mind that simply must be addressed here, like for instance, why
is it that responding to a person's posts is always better nettiquette
than posting something new and original?(don't answer) It's no big deal
to me if nobody responds to what I have to say. Of course I get jealous
if I'm singled out as the only shunned in a group of misfits, but that
rarely happens, except lately, I've felt that I need something more out
of this experience, something more wholesome, like some solid food
instead of candy, oh, so much candy, more than you could shake a stick at
but that's it, nothing more,m and it hurts your teeth and leavces you
with the feeling that something was missing and you can't go back to what
it was, and your m,ind and your fingers are flying at a hundred miles and
you're trying to empathise with someone for something you can only
visualise andf you know anyway that the cardinal rule is NEVER ADDRESS
THE THING PUBLICALLY IN and of itself and then, though, if you hgave no
free time like I don't but problems with some of your friends whining
about this and that and how you're really no friend of theirs but you
couldve said the same thing to this one person in particular months or
years ago but didn't because you thought that was being friendly, well
WHY DON'T YOU JUST COME OUT AND SAY IT? Because quite frankly you're
pissing me off and since I've got nothing better to do and you know it I
lmust take out this latent fear of fai9lure upon you because you're the
one who made it latent to begin with, and the conversation fear grows and
grows and the minds become disconnecteder and disconnecteder until
finally noone is responding to anything anyone has ever said they're only
drawing in sources from m the outside for you to consider and then
everyone is considering the same sources and is thinking the same and
acting the same and talking just like they know you want them to talk and
are even being encouraged into the same sort of sipmilitude that you
vowed from boyhood to fight, and they're alll doing it for slack of
course but you can't help but wonder when they will quit trying to OUT
WEIRD each other and really get down into what's most important, which is
the biggest squirt ever known or even dreamed of or thought of and hey
did you see on channel x last night how when you bliow your nose real
hard like to get the city dust out from your nostrils you noticed that
you were toughing something slimy and it was tentacled and when you
to8ghted your napkin to it it felt just like those sticky window walkers
you had as a kid but only these were alive and there were only half of
the bodies one blue and the othewr greeen and when you toughted them they
squirmed inside of your nostrils and sinuses and there was nothing you
could do to get them out, they were literally and permanantly embedded
within your mucus membranes? D'ya think that had anything to do with
that "funny" newsgroup you've been spending so much time on? Do you
think that the jealousy you felt over those with non-parasite-infested
nostrils could help you after they've made your may into their backside
of thine own brainy now, would you, or if you could even bother to make
out a way around that trajic fact? I mean if you didn't maybe some frop
or other hallucinigens or comfort of love and sexual nothings whispered
into her other orifices sufficed enough that time on dokstok mountain or
not but antismeeliig nostril fluid drained from the breaks of a cracked
fluid pan between the nostrils, of death buddy boy, and we're not
whistling yankee here, neither, for the end approacheth us all and your
baseball card collection is running out, WHOM DO YOU WANT ON YOUR
SIDE??? I shouldn't even BE here.

Most Confusedly Yours,

Kid Ginsy
ps Keep It Up!
pss Watch It.


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