Ian & Stuart's Australian Mac: Not for Sale/Another.not.for.sale (Australia).iso/hold me in your arms/Galactic Guide/PGG-Viewer Folder/Articles Folder/REAL03.NEW

Text File | 1994-09-08 | 161KB | 3,429 lines

*
* ARCHIVE: REAL03.NEW
*
* DATE: 02/16/93
*
* EDITOR(S):
*
*        Editor   1 : Paul J. Clegg  ([e-mail])
*        Editor   2 : Steve Baker  ([e-mail])
*
* NUMBER OF ARTICLES: 25
*


*
*
*   2R36   -- Technical University of Berlin, Berlin, Germany, Earth
*   2R37   -- Tourists
*   2R38   -- Jargon in British Science Fiction Fandom
*   2R39   -- Cuisine Unauthentique
*   2R40   -- Gruenau, Namibia, Africa, Earth
*   2R41   -- Dingle, Liverpool, England, Earth
*   2R43   -- Park Road Sports Centre
*   2R44   -- UseNet and the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Known Galaxy
*   2R45   -- Amsterdam, Netherlands, Earth
*   2R46   -- Bars, European
*   2R47   -- Pubs of Carlton/Fitzroy/Parkville, Melbourne, Australia, Earth
*   2R48   -- Boredom
*   2R49   -- Bushkill Falls
*   2R50   -- Paddle Boats
*   2R51   -- Miniature Golf
*   2R52   -- Rice Village, Houston, Texas, USA, Earth
*   2R53   -- Magic
*   2R54   -- Memory
*   2R55   -- Santa Claus, Existence of
*   2R56   -- Euro Disney, Marne-le-Vallee, France, Earth
*   2R57   -- Alexander Lachlan McLintock
*   2R58   -- Indexing Books
*   2R59   -- Canada, Earth
*   2R60   -- Lecture Games
*   2R61   -- Finland, Earth
*
*


%t Technical University of Berlin, Berlin, Germany, Earth
%n 2R36
%s Spending your best years at a place that doesn't deserve it
%a Sven Muencheberg  ([e-mail])
%d 19930609
%x Earth
%x Berlin, Germany, Earth
%e
The Technical University of Berlin (TUB) was recently ranked the 7th worst
university in Germany.  The TUB is also one of the ten largest universities
in Germany.  The coexistence of these facts could be explained by one of the
following reasons :

          1. Students don't care about the quality of their education.
          2. Students don't care about rankings.
          3. Students don't care about anything.

Answer three is the most possible selection, because thinking about the
studying conditions at German universities is regarded as extremely
dangerous to your mental health.

Responsible for this (as well as for most of our problems which won't be
discussed here) is, of course, money.  Since the end of the '70's (meant are
the 1970's, but due to the short life span of humans no living person really
remembers what the 1870's (or 1770's...) were like, thus we can save these
two digits) the number of students grew enormously, while the financial and
material equipment of the universities remained practically unchanged.

Today the universities are so crowded that two students have to share one
seat; well, they are not really sitting on top of each other, that's just
to illustrate the numbers.

The Big Strike of '88:

Due to this fact, many students were unhappy and in the autumn of 1988 the
TUB students went on strike.  You may ask: "Why should anybody care if
people who don't produce anything go on strike?"  But the majority of
students were too busy being creative strikers to notice, while some didn't
dare ask such a heretical question, and the rest weren't convinced of the
whole thing anyway.

So, they went on with demonstrations and meetings until the end of the winter
term, in February 1989.  When there were no more lectures to stay away from,
they couldn't keep on striking and the whole affair died quietly.

The year 1989 was then renamed into 1988b, so they could forever refer to
the "Big Strike of 88."

The Situation Today:

Like it was said before, nothing changed (well, not really nothing, but
nothing that is worth mentioning here).  The TUB grew and grew, and has
recently reached the 40,000 students mark.  The male/female ratio is 2:1
(overall), but in some divisions, especially engineering and other technical
disciplines the ratio leaps up to 16:1!

BEWARE FEMALE HITCHHIKERS!  Don't wear short skirts or high heels if you
visit one of these divisions, except if you like to receive the same
attention the earth population would pay to an alien invasion.

Remember, when the TUB was founded in 1879 the ratio was infinite to one,
so not everything got worse, and if a male student knows where the
biologists or the elementary school teachers have their parties, he can get
through quite well.

TUBSAT:

A really remarkable thing is the TUBSAT-A, the university's own satellite
(you'll never guess what the abbreviation stands for).  It was carried to
orbit with the ERS-1 launch in '91, where it was used as ballast.  Right now
it is used as ballast for the aerospace students, who have to calculate its
position.  By watching the satellite's flight path you can also prove that
Newton's law of gravity is right, if your head hitting the table after your
10th beer isn't proof enough to you.

Anyway, the little sputnik (yes, it makes beep noises) will complete its
10,000th revolution soon and in September '93 the second TUBSAT, TUBSAT-B,
will be launched with a Russian rocket (boy, the times are changin').
%e
*EOA*


%t Tourists
%n 2R37
%s How to behave in foreign places
%a Michael Bleyer  ([e-mail])
%d 19930506
%x Travel Necessities
%x How To Avoid Being Mugged In New York
%i Travel
%i Sightseeing
%i Behaving In Foreign Places
%e
Being one of the worst habits of modern societies, tourism is something
you don't want to be identified with.  After all, no one in his right
mind would admit to spending lots of money, travelling around the galaxy
to other places just to find out they are five times more boring than home
(which they are never really), or, which is even worse, five times better
than home (realizing what a dump they lived in the past 30 years).  No way.
People are not that stupid.  Well, they are somewhat, but not _that_ much.

If you belong to the latter kind, here are some hints on avoiding to get
recognized as a tourist, which is the only way to get in touch with the
local scene and really get to know the place, enabling you to find out if
the place is actually that good or bad and feel real shitty for a change
(see above).  Enjoy the feeling while it lasts.

Your major goal will be to get as close to the locals as possible, and as
far away from the other "typical" tourists, which you are not of course,
since you're an exception, which you are, because you want to have some
real fun on this trip since that is precisely what you came for.

Some main hints to start with:

          1) Avoid people with cameras and/or hawaii shirts, especially if
             they come in larger groups, which is not really difficult,
             since they usually do.

          2) Buy the best tourist guide book known and avoid all the places
             it mentions as definitely worth a visit.  In fact, avoid all
             places it mentions at all.

          3) Follow people that do not talk in the local language, because
             it's most likely locals trying to disguise themselves or making
             fun of tourists.

Finding your way around:

Never ask anyone for directions.  If you do, you will probably be sent to
the rubbish dump (for the sheer fun of it, or because it's actually an
interesting experience), or the airport where you just came from.
When asking a tourist, you risk meeting someone from your hometown, which
in most cases is highly embarrassing, so we'll advise you not to take any
chances here.  So use your intuition to get to wherever you think your
presence is so utterly needed, just to find out that having finally arrived
at some location, somehow you forgot why you wanted to be there (this is a
most adventurous and fun technique, and hey - as a tough hitchhiker, you
don't want to miss that extra bit of excitement).

Weather:

Adjusting yourself to the weather is quite easy, for there are two simple
rules to follow.  If the weather is awesome, don't go down to the beach;
all the tourists will be there.  Go shopping.  The hotter and stickier
the air, the better to go shopping.  This will give you an idea of what
a walk through the Sahara desert feels like, only with the Sahara being
somewhat more quiet and calm, besides some live adventures to tell at home.

If the weather is bad, go down to the beach; you'll have it all to yourself
since the other tourists will definitely be shopping for three reasons.
First, running around in a crowded city is less stressful at a cool
temperature.  Second, they've been at the beach for so long now, time for
some shopping.  Third, the beach is not really nice during bad weather, and
fourth, "all the others are here too, it _must_ be good!".

If the weather has been good or bad several days in a row before it changes,
the rules are even more true, for tourists are simple-minded people and a
more obvious change of weather will make their decisions easier.

Foreign Language(s):

If you can't speak one, or speak so bad that you are easily recognized,
then don't.  Not at all.  Don't even try to.  If you do, prices in the
nearby shops and marketstands will immediately triple, and people
with hats and long dark coats will try to sell you real gold watches
("stolen from the rich") or homegrown Ganja ("it's all natural").
Instead, try to use gestures to communicate (pretend you're too cool to
talk at the moment).  If you actually speak well enough to pass as a local,
don't say a word either.  The result of trying to make an impression is
being immediately surrounded by tourists who ask for directions and steal
your soul with little gadgets called cameras.

Sightseeing Tours:

Definitely skip this.  It's a rip-off anyway, and all you'll be learning
about are things like: how many stairs all the churchtowers in town have;
with the weather being so terrific it would be a good idea to go down to
the beach after the tour; that the city had been a really nice and
prosperous place several hundred years ago, which makes it a real pity
that you could not have seen it back then.  And to top it off, you'll
be told all this by some young female student from your home country,
who happens to be doing this only for monetary reasons and not being a
local at all, which explains why she speaks your language so well in the
first place.

Enjoying Yourself:

In the evening hours, find some people who you definitely know are locals
that look like they are in a party mood and follow them to their usual
hangout.  If you travel by car, look for local number plates, but don't be
fooled by hired cars.  Do not even try to get a taxi driver to drop you off
at an "in" place, for this will get you even further away from the real
action.  Taxi drivers get paid by the tourist attraction owners to drop you
off there, and the mafia money they make through this is much higher than
the tip you'll give them, so just forget about that taxi idea.

After you find a local hangout, enter the place and order some national
drink, even if you don't like it.  This will immediately make everyone else
notice you are a tourist, and they'll be so excited that a tourist has
actually popped up in this remote corner of town that they'll like your face
just because it's a different one for once.  If you then tell them that
their country is really beautiful and you really like it, they'll absolutely
love you, invite you for one round after another of that national drink you
don't even like, and generally have a great time all night long.
%e
*EOA*


%t Jargon in British Science Fiction Fandom
%n 2R38
%a Dave Langford  (not available via Internet)
%s An Encyclopedia of British SF Jargon
*
* Author is available via Alexander Lachlan McLintock
*   ([e-mail])
*
%d 19920701
%i Science Fiction, British, Jargon in
%e
[ Submitter's Note: Written for an updated 1993 edition of the SF Neofans'
  Guide, published in the USA.  It will probably not be used there in any
  recognizable form, since a very long time after requesting articles, the
  SF Neofans' Guide editors revealed that they didn't want articles, just
  little snippets which their own infinitely superior literary powers would
  stick together. ]

So you're interested in this thing called British science fiction fandom,
but have certain reservations?  Ah, it's the _jargon_ that bothers you!
I know the feeling: I dislike most of it myself, but the good news is that
most of the really silly terms invented by easily amused fans of yesteryear
have fallen into welcome disuse.

`Real' fan parlance in 1990s Britain centres on a few functional
abbreviations (con for convention; fanzine for fan magazine; fandom for the
community of SF fans) or acronyms (APA... see below).  If someone comes up
to you and starts babbling on about `femmefans' or `crifanac' or `Ghu' you
may be sure that he (it is always a he) is young, has overdosed on old
fanzines, and will regret this one day.

All the same, British fan conversation is larded with strange terms, mostly
proper names, and some of the printable ones appear below.  This glossary is
avowedly incomplete, because (a) a large part of the fun is finding out more
for yourself; (b) although the network of British fandom is tatty and full
of large holes, any one point of contact will eventually lead you to all the
others; and (c) I am extremely lazy (see Omissions, Flagrant).


          ---------- Jargon in British Science Fiction ----------

Albacons: Glasgow Eastercons (name also given to smaller summer conventions
  up there).

Ansible: intermittent SF/fan newsletter produced by reprobate Dave Langford.
  May or may not be in existence at any given time, but a stamped self-
  addressed envelope (where can I buy these envelopes that address
  themselves?) will get you the latest issue and/or information on current
  convention addresses.  I promise.  Contact: 94 London Road, Reading,
  Berkshire, RG1 5AU.  In England, like all the other addresses mentioned.

APAs: Amateur Press Associations, closed-shop fanzine distribution outfits
  too numerous to list.  They resemble paper versions of discussion groups
  on more or less anything you can imagine.  One British APA is or was
  allegedly produced by fans' soft toys.  `Tonstant Weader Fwowed Up.'

Armageddon Enterprises: dedicated team of detonation-loving fans responsible
  for apocalyptic firework displays at conventions and elsewhere.  Said to
  be negotiating for the former Soviet Union's stocks of SS-20s.  Contact:
  any large and suspiciously smoking hole in the ground.

The Astral Leauge [sic]: dubious cosmic cult invented by Leeds Group fan
  D. West in the mid-1970s.  All rituals, initiations and hymns are strictly
  optional, the central dogma being that neophytes must give 50p to D. West.
  Exerts vast yet mythical influence over practically everything.

Astral Pole: fiendish initiation of The Astral Leauge, involving entangling
  oneself in a complex way with a broomstick and rotating one's spine and
  limbs through dimensions not convenient to describe.  I did however
  attempt to describe it in my TAFF trip report The Transatlantic Hearing
  Aid -- still in print.  (Advertisement.)

Bar: the functional and social centre of almost all British conventions.
  Hence the traditional versicle and response at the opening ceremony:
  `And now I'd like to introduce Pel Torro, our Guest of Honour this
  weekend....' All: `He's In The Bar!'

Beer: more copiously consumed at British conventions than at any other
  country's.  New fans should however note that drunkenness remains fairly
  rare; distrust those con reports in fanzines which imply colossal but
  untrue drinking feats as a sort of metaphor for the general euphoria of
  being at a good convention.

BFS: British Fantasy Society, which once upon a time split off from the BSFA
  because the BSFA tended to ignore fantasy in favour of sf.  The whirligig
  of time brings in its revenges: nowadays the BSFA has plentiful coverage
  of fantasy, while the BFS tends to ignore both fantasy and sf in favour of
  horror.  Contact: David J. Howe, 61 Elgar Avenue, Tolworth, Surbiton,
  Surrey, KT5 9JP.

Birmingham SF Group: perhaps Britain's longest-running local society, this
  feat ascribed by co-founder Peter Weston to his having based the
  constitution on that of the Young Conservatives.  (Jesus Christ.)  Runs
  Novacon every year and holds monthly meetings of semi-formal character,
  i.e. admission fee and guest speaker or panel rather than the British norm
  of a rabble in a pub.  After the semi-formal bit, the BSFG reverts to
  being a rabble in a pub.  Contact: Bernie Evans, 121 Cape Hill, Smethwick,
  Warley, West Midlands, B66 4SH.

BSFA: British Science Fiction Association.  Produces six hefty mailings each
  year, with news, commentary, criticism and reviews (and more reviews, and
  capsule reviews, and reviews duplicating other reviews in the same
  mailing, etc).  The quality of BSFA magazines varies wildly as editors
  burn out from over-exposure to Piers Anthony sequels and give way to more
  or less untalented replacements.  Overall, good stuff if you like reading
  about SF.  Also organizes its own monthly pub meetings in London; these
  are rather a moveable feast, but at present seem to have settled in The
  Conservatory (a pub formerly called the Cafe Munchen in St Giles High
  Street, near Tottenham Court Road tube station) on the second Wednesday of
  each month.  It's best to enquire first.  Contact: Alison Cook,
  27 Albemarle Drive, Grove, Wantage, OX12 0NB.

COA: Change Of Address, a handy abbreviation in fanzines.  Fans are nomadic
  and love to falsify address lists by hopping around the country (or out of
  it) like demented fleas.  Some percentage of the addresses even in this
  frighteningly authoritative piece will doubtless have changed when you
  read it: do not despair, but try another suggested contact, however
  seemingly unrelated.  They're all in it together, you know.

COFF: Concrete Overcoat Fan Fund, a joke unpopularity award presented at
  Novacons during the 1980s; raised trifling sums for genuine causes but was
  dropped owing to unpopularity (some had taken it seriously).

Conspiracy '87: British Worldcon, deeply traumatic for most of those
  concerned.  `Young fan, you know not the unwritten law.  You spoke of
  _that convention_.  Here in this land, men do not utter that name.' See
  Malcolm Edwards.  Do not see Scientology.

Critical Wave: news and reviews fanzine, trying determinedly to be the
  British Locus.  Initially plagued by dire reproduction, worse design and
  a fearful hack-journalistic style, but has improved a great deal despite
  persistent money trouble and British publishers' deep-rooted horror of
  placing ads which might tell unauthorized personnel about their books.
  Contact Martin Tudor, 845 Alum Rock Road, Birmingham, B28 2AG.

Doc Weir Award: presented by popular vote at Eastercons to some fan whose
  all-round efforts and/or niceness fall outside the scope of more specific
  awards.  How the voting works: `Psst, who's the fix in for this year?'
  `Oh, a few of us think XXXX really deserves it....' If uninterested in the
  victory of XXXX, you might as well not bother to vote.  (Seriously,
  there's an element of realism in this procedure: award eligibility is so
  widespread and nebulous that without `a few of us' in their smoke-filled
  room, every single vote is likely to be for someone different.)

Eastercon: the British national convention, held by decades-old tradition
  over the Easter Bank Holiday weekend.  (See, you're beginning to
  understand this arcane jargon already.)  Something for everyone, including
  those who like to complain a lot, those who actually want to talk SF, and
  those preferring to lurk in the bar.  With a new committee and site
  (chosen by vote two years in advance) each year, Eastercon organization
  wavers between total shambles and the hyperefficient marshalling of 57
  simultaneous programme streams in a desperate effort to ensure that you
  can't possibly see more than one-57th of what's happening.  Goes under
  different confusing names each year: thus `Illumination' in 1992,
  `Helicon' in 1993 (see Tim Illingworth), `Sou'Wester' in 1994,
  `Confabulation' in 1995...  but titles can recur, as with the numerous
  Albacons (Glasgow) and Yorcons (Leeds).

  [ I don't know what the sell-by date of the Guide is intended to
  be, but here for the record are contact addresses for the 1994 and 1995
  Eastercons: Sou'Wester, 3 West Shrubbery, Redland, Bristol, BS6 6SZ;
  Confabulation, 3 York Street, Altrincham, Cheshire, WA15 9QH. ]

Malcolm Edwards: alleged chairman of Conspiracy '87, which see.  Now too
  awesomely famous in Real Publishing to bother with the likes of us.

Eurocon: the pan-European convention, normally merged with the national
  event of the current host country.  British Eastercons doubling as
  Eurocons: Seacon '84 and Helicon in 1993.

Fan Funds: see COFF, GUFF, MAFF, OWFF, and (in particular) TAFF.

Fannish: one of those tricky terms whose meaning depends on the speaker.
  (a) having to do with fans; (b) neutral term describing those fans,
  fanzines, groups and conventions centered on the fan community itself
  rather than, or as well as, SF; (c) abusive term describing anyone even
  less SF-centered than one's own sub-fandom.

Fans Across The World: deeply earnest and worthy organization dedicated to
  improving links between countries... e.g., arranging visas and assisted
  travel to western European cons for eastern and former-Soviet fans lacking
  hard currency.  A frequent newsletter lists cons in unpronounceable places.
  Not to be confused with Fans Across The World Alliance, the international
  Salman Rushdie appreciation society founded by A. Khomeini.  Contact
  Bridget Wilkinson, 17 Mimosa, 29 Avenue Road, Tottenham, N15 5JF.

FOKT: Friends of Kilgore Trout, the local group of Glasgow and environs.

Foundation: much-respected SF critical journal, published since 1972 by the
  SF Foundation.

Friends of Foundation: fan group dedicated to the funding and preservation
  of the SF Foundation, which see.  Suggested contact: Roger Robinson, 75
  Rosslyn Avenue, Harold Wood, Essex, RM3 0RG.

Globe: site of monthly London SF pub meetings until they moved to the One
  Tun, which see.  Older fans sometimes confuse everyone by referring to
  present-day meetings as `the Globe'.

GUFF: a fan fund (see TAFF) which conveys popular fans between Europe and
  Australia.  Invented by Chris Priest with a little help from yours truly.
  Having been first set up to bring an Australian to Seacon '79 in Britain,
  it began life as the `Get Up-and-over Fan Fund': this name perforce
  changes to `Going Under Fan Fund' or something of the sort for the
  alternate, southbound trips.

Hamilton Hall: a pub on London's Liverpool Street Station which housed the
  monthly SF meetings for a brief while (late 1992 to early 1993) while the
  Wellington was being overhauled by builders.  Thoughts of making the HH a
  permanent venue were firmly quashed by its massive and life-threatening
  crowds of commuters in suits.

History of British Fandom: there is no room.  In 1937 we held the first ever
  SF convention (all right, there's a rival 1936 claim from America, but
  British fandom chauvinistically doesn't accept a gathering in a private
  house as a convention, especially when it wasn't announced as such
  beforehand.  Hear those axes grinding?).  Fan historian Rob Hansen has
  published several hefty compilations of British fan history: contact 144
  Plashet Grove, East Ham, London, E6 1AB.

Tim Illingworth: awesome and inarguable guru of British convention runners.
  Always involved with some convention or other, so propaganda should be
  available from 63 Drake Road, Chessington, Surrey, KT9 1LQ.

Intersection: 1995 Worldcon, to be held in Glasgow, Scotland.  Contact 121
  Cape Hill, Smethwick, Warley, West Midlands, B66 4SH.

Interzone: long-running (since 1982) British SF magazine, wittily known to
  its fannish detractors as Interzonk or Internoze.  These dissidents
  refuse to forgive its initial funding, being the profits of the 1981
  Eastercon (Yorcon II, perceived as having made said profit by not spending
  money on the convention; guests of honour were requested to skip breakfast
  as the budget was so tight, etc).  It's a good magazine nowadays, and gets
  a regular Hugo nomination in the `Best Locus' category.  Contact 217
  Preston Drove, Brighton, BN1 6FL.

KTF: short for Kill The Fuckers, a legendary style of strongly negative
  fanzine reviewing supposed to have flourished in Britain early in the 80s.
  It's not a very helpful critical term, having grown over the years into a
  too-diffuse phrase of condemnation covering a wide range of material from
  the merely abusive and inept (relatively rare) all the way across to
  balanced commentary which expresses negative views even in passing.

LCFI: `London Convention Fandom Inc', a regular or semi-regular meeting of
  con-runners, believed to happen in a pub called the Royal Oak in Pimlico.
  This pub has been selected with infinite care as being one of the remotest
  from a tube station in the whole of central London.  It is, however, dead
  convenient for Tim Illingworth (see Illingworth, Tim); his office is just
  round the corner.

Leeds Group: centre of all fannish evil in the UK (according to certain
  factions), this deep corruption manifesting largely as hanging round in
  bars doing very little indeed, producing rare but offensively literate
  fanzines, and winning too many of the Nova Awards (which see).

London Circle or London SF Circle... older name for the regular monthly
  London pub gathering.  See White Horse and Wellington.

MAFF: Mid-Atlantic Fan Fund, like TAFF but dropping its unpopular winners
  halfway across.  Hilarious and original suggestion made by 49.5% of new
  fans who first hear about the funds.

Matrix: news, gossip, media-review and general discussion fanzine of the
  BSFA.

Mexicon: biennial convention whose ostensible Prime Directives are `a focus
  on _written_ SF' and `a single programme stream' -- both these in reaction
  to the multimedia sprawl of the Eastercons.  The directives have been
  bent considerably since Mexicon's zealous early days, but it's still
  regarded as fearfully ideologically unsound by habitual runners of multi-
  streamed and multimedia events.  What is so Mexican about all this remains
  shrouded in mystery and tequila fumes.

Nova Awards: British fanzine awards organized by the Birmingham SF Group and
  presented at Novacon.  Up to 1976, winners were determined by an `expert'
  committee and the award was decried as fallible and elitist.  Since then,
  voting has been open to any convention member who claims to have seen a
  few fanzines, and the awards are therefore scorned as fallible (what do
  these voters know?) and elitist (how _dare_ this self-appointed minority
  set itself above others by bothering to vote?).

Novacon: for a long while (since 1971) this small event was Britain's second
  annual convention after the Eastercon.  It is always held in November
  (which in awkward years has sometimes been deemed to fall late in
  October), in Birmingham (occasionally deemed to fall in Coventry or out
  amid the wastes of the local airport).  Contact address: as for BSFG.

Omissions, Flagrant: this thing will swell and expand and take over the
  universe if I try to cover every topic.  Thus nothing on SF awards, nor
  most fanzines and small-press SF magazines (too many and too ephemeral --
  Ansible is mentioned only out of blatant nepotism), most smaller or one-
  off conventions (get hold of the cited news publications for an up-to-date
  list), `filksinging' (fan folk-singing, a very active sub-fandom in 1990s
  Britain -- but me, I'm tone-deaf), smaller local groups (they keep getting
  thrown out of their chosen pubs and moving on, so recent information is
  vital)....

One Tun: site of monthly London SF pub meetings until driven by the
  landlord's rampant homophobia to the Wellington, which see.  Rather too
  many fans who were used to speaking of the Tun meetings now get all twee
  and call (and spell) the new place the 'Ton.

OWFF: One-Way Fan Fund, like TAFF or GUFF but without the customary return
  trip.  Hilarious and original suggestion made by a different 49.5% of
  new fans who first hear about the funds.

Greg Pickersgill: a Famous Monster of Fandom (retired).

Scientology: do not, under any circumstances, see Conspiracy '87.

Seacons: a pseudo-series with no two alike.  Seacon (Coventry, 1975) was a
  legendary Eastercon meant to be held by the sea but shifted by
  circumstances to about as far as you can get from the sea in Britain
  (`Er, South East Area con,' the committee said unconvincingly).  Seacon
  '79 was a British Worldcon run by much the same people, several of whom
  later bid to hold the 1984 Eastercon only to be defeated by the opposing
  Eastercon/Eurocon bid called -- to their huge annoyance -- Seacon '84.
  Such are the ironies of fandom.

Serious Scientific Talks: a sequence of convention speeches by Bob Shaw,
  each subjecting the word `scientific' to hellish extremes of redefinition.
  The `serious' applies solely to Bob's own mournful face and tone of voice,
  his vast audiences normally being in hysterics.

Bob Shaw: popular SF novelist and Irish fan from way back; see serious
  scientific talks.  Never wears gorilla suits.

Bob Shaw (Fake): Scots fan, a founder of FOKT and the Albacons; can be told
  from the real Bob Shaw by his tendency to megalomania and gorilla suits.

SF Foundation: research and academic contact centre; book, magazine, and
  fanzine library, etc.  Long resident at the Polytechnic of East London but
  recently (1992) cast adrift thanks to vicious cuts in education funding,
  the British government distrusting expense on non-commercial fripperies
  like science fiction, science, research, cultural exchange or books.  It
  is now located at the University of Liverpool.  See Friends of Foundation.

Small Mammal: very long-running (even editors Martin'n'Margaret have lost
  track of how many issues) news sheet distributed more often than not at
  London SF meetings (see Wellington)...  features upcoming events and
  sense-shattering typos.

TAFF: TransAtlantic Fan Fund, a splendid and laudable fan institution which
  arranges free trips to North American Worldcons for popular European fans,
  and vice-versa.  As with Fans Across The World, GUFF and Friends of
  Foundation, the money comes from fandom itself: auctions of memorabilia,
  donations of convention profits, etc.  Small fees are paid by the voters
  who choose the lucky winner.  Active since the early 1950s.  Interest
  declared: TAFF wafted me to Boston for the 1980 Worldcon.  Contact Abigail
  Frost, 95 Wilmot Street, London, E2 0BP.

Unicon: a traditionally small and low-budget convention held each summer in
  some austere university/college site, by a student and not-too-long-ex-
  student committee.

Vector: chief critical magazine of the BSFA.

The Wellington: as I write, the current site of the monthly London SF pub
  meetings.  Fan presence guaranteed from 6pm or earlier on the first
  Thursday evening of each month (with heavy depletion if this falls on
  Maundy Thursday -- see Eastercon).  By closing time at 11pm we have
  usually attained a fair approximation to climactic conditions on the
  surface of Venus.  How to find it: follow the `Old Vic' subway exit signs
  from the central concourse of Waterloo Station; when you reach the street
  the pub can be seen immediately opposite.  Key phrases for gaining
  immediate fannish acceptance are: `You are Dave Langford and I wish to
  buy you many drinks,' or `Luckily I have on my person an atomic-field
  depressor kit which will silence that bloody awful juke-box.' See also
  Hamilton Hall, but not for long.

D. West: a Famous Monster of Fandom, usually described in contemporary
  accounts in such terms as `eldritch', `batrachian', `mephitic' or `drunk'.
  His almost legendary fanzine article `Performance' was dramatized by noted
  author/thespian Geoff Ryman, to general acclaim and alarm.

The White Hart: Arthur C. Clarke's fictional version of the pub where the
  London SF Circle once met.  See White Horse.

The White Horse: London SF pub venue superseded by the Globe (which see).

Walt Willis: living legend of Irish fandom.  Chiefly responsible for one of
  the all-time notable fanzines (Hyphen), producer of much nifty writing in
  many fanzines, the original inspiration for what became TAFF, and modest
  with it.

Worldcon: the World SF Convention has come to Britain roughly every decade
  since Loncon I (London) in 1957.  Seacon '79 (Brighton) was a great
  success.  Conspiracy '87 (Brighton again) was, er, um.  Next comes
  Intersection in 1995....

Zymurgy: traditionally, the last word.  It goes like this: `Hope you'll get
  to one of these conventions... I'll see you in the bar.'
%e
*EOA*


%t Cuisine Unauthentique
%n 2R39
%s Food From Fans
%a Dave Langford  (not available via Internet)
* Author is available via [e-mail] (Alex McLintock)
%d 19930607
%i Fannish Food
%e
"Tell me what you eat and I will tell you what you are," said famous food
junkie Anthelme Brillat-Savarin in 1825 (only I gather he said it in
French).  Looking at my friends, I doubt that this means of psychoanalysis
is reliable.

Chris Priest, for example, used to moan to me about his local Chinese
restaurants, on the ground that they're too good.  "I like Chinese _junk
food_," he wailed, "the sort of dishes they never actually made in China,
things like instant chop suey...." I daren't ask if he's also addicted to
those greasy chunks of fried pork coated in bullet-proof layers of calorific
batter with thin red sugary slime drooled all over the starch-laden result,
the whole mess whimsically called "sweet and sour."

This came to mind when the 1987 World SF Convention asked for a contribution
to its planned fannish cookbook.  A little essay on unauthentic cuisine
sounded just the thing, and if a few other things hadn't got in the way
(like putting together a 40,000 word fan room booklet all by myself -- more
fool I for volunteering) I'd probably have contributed more than the recipe
for "Sinister Langford Apple Chutney" therein.

For example, when Hazel and I feel all upmarket and sufficiently demented to
have more than one course at dinner, it's usually the work of a moment to
nip round to the local Asian grocer's (mysteriously called "Eurofoods") for
some big squidgy avocado pears.  This fruit is almost my sole concession to
the weird notion that raw green vegetable things are in fact suitable for
human consumption.

Well, everyone knows how to cut them up (an axe is not advised), to balance
the hard bit in a bottle of water, and to overrun the house with tall weedy
avocado plants each having exactly two leaves at the end of a long naked
bumpy stem... but the eating part involves decisions.  Hotels usually fill
the unfortunate avocado with a curdled pink mess, studded with shrimp which
have not led cleanly lives.  The alternative tends to be some species of
French dressing, which as far as this picky household is concerned Does Not
Quite Work in the unique post-structural context of the avocado.  Hence the
development in our mighty research laboratories of...

       _Hazel's Stupendously Unauthentic Non-Vinaigrette For Avocados_

Ingredients:

          A lot of soy sauce.
          A lot of sesame oil.
          About one-sixth of a lot of vinegar.
          About one-fifteenth of a lot of Lea & Perrin's Worcester Sauce.

Mix together in any order and with any variations suggested by prejudice or
experience... shaken, not stirred.  Put in a bottle or something, and give
one last vigorous shake at the table.  (This offers incentives for good
discipline in the careful replacement of bottle tops.  Either that or it
offers an interestingly brown-spotted ceiling, like ours.)

Pour quite a lot into the hollow of your half-avocado.  Sensuously carve out
drenched gobbets of avocado flesh with a spoon.  Put in mouth, masticate,
etc.  (Why do recipes always stop just before the interesting bit?  You
never even get three asterisks and a new paragraph starting with
"Afterwards.")

The stuff stays usable for strange aeons, except when avocados are in
season, and can even seem to improve with time.  Try with various grades of
soy sauce, from Dilute Tea to Creosote.  There is probably no real
substitute for the Worcester sauce, but fans with cosmic minds might prove
me wrong.

My thoughts on green things remind me of the conceptual salad which my old
pal Martin Hoare and I have elaborated from time to time, when we're in
pubs far away from the potential threat of a kitchen.  Never actually
created in cold blood, the Langford/Hoare salad is a thought experiment in
the avoidance of "rabbit food."  Both of us were heavily conditioned against
this at the university, thanks to a college chef who believed that limp
lettuce had inadequate protein value and preferred to beef it up with some
nice meaty slugs and greenfly.

If it were ever to emerge from its ideal niche among the Platonic Forms,
this salad would very probably include grated cheese, cold boiled new
potatoes, hard-boiled eggs, sliced red and green peppers, lumps of avocado
(a hot point of contention -- Martin suspects this of being rabbit food),
chopped onions of various kinds, radishes, sweet corn, garlic, chives, and
some suitable admixture of cold cooked meat or fish....  Perhaps it would
be easier to list the items which would _not_ feature, such as lettuce,
tomato, cucumber, olives, mayonnaise of any description, vinegar in greater
than homeopathic doses, or any of the horrible sticky proprietary messes
which are called salad dressing.  ("Aye," said a skeptical Macbeth, "in the
catalogue ye go for salad dressing....")

STOP PRESS: Martin now claims to have consumed the ideal salad, but carping
critics (me) suspect that there is a degree of unauthenticity which violates
even our fuzzy definition of salad.  "It was great," Martin enthuses.  "We
made it from a pound of beef and a lot of onions and nothing else."

Sometimes one does need to abandon these dizzy theoretical speculations,
narrow one's focus from its habitual cosmos-wide scope, and tackle the
problem of giving visitors some actual food.  Hazel usually falls back on
the all-purpose roast recipe whereby you take a chicken (or equivalent mass
of pork, beef, lamb or honey-smeared peacock stuffed with larks' tongues
and fattened dormice) and put it in the oven for hours and hours, while I
try to remember dear old Professor Kurti's differential equation which
gives the precise cooking time provided only that you have a perfectly
spherical joint.  But occasionally my excuses about inability to cook fail
me, and I sulkily try to remember the formula for...

              _Chris Priest Memorial Chinese Casseroled Thing_
     (as never actually thrust upon Chris, but see my opening paragraphs)

This is guaranteed to be as authentically Oriental as Charlie Chan, the
insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu, or my pal Martin when he had jaundice.  You need
something suitable for lengthy cooking, e.g. quite a lot of cheap nasty
belly pork (remove any fat, curly tails or nose-rings), or a similar amount
of better pork when you feel solvent, modulating into stringy chicken
should you feel bored with pork, or kosher, or whatever.  The last time I
cooked this, some 2-1/2 pounds of pork filled four people very full.  You
also need:

          1 enormous onion (actually optional).
          1-1/2 cups of Unauthentic Sauce.  This is made by looking up
            Kenneth Lo's classic sweet-sour recipe in one of his cookbooks,
            which then reminds me of all the ways in which I do it
            differently (i.e. wrong).  In the following, a "tbsp" is a
            tablespoon and a "tsp" a teaspoon.  These are not exactly SI
            units: for the rigorous, I've consulted Katharine Whitehorn's
            deeply cheering book of desperate improvisations, _How To Survive
            In The Kitchen_, and she says that 1 tbsp equals 4 tsp, while 1
            cup equals 5 tbsp of flour, sugar etc. but 10 tbsp of liquid
            (since flour protrudes obscenely to form a "rounded tablespoon"
            while liquids are perforce confined to a humble "level
            tablespoon" unless possessing staggering viscosity or amazing
            surface tension).  1 cup is about a quarter of a pint, a pint
            being 20 fluid ounces (if you wish to use the puny short measure
            on non-Imperial pints, do your own conversion), and can I please
            skip the metric equivalents of all these?  Thank you for this
            small kindness.

          Where was I? Ah, the sauce....

          2 tbsp brown sugar.
          1 tbsp cornflour (or less, and it's optional anyway).
          4 tbsp water or, better, chicken stock.
          2 tbsp orange or pineapple juice (in juiceless times I have been
            known to throw in some crushed pineapple instead).
          2 tbsp soy sauce.
          2 tbsp medium-dry sherry.  The technical term for this variety
            is, "For the love of God, Montresor!"
          2 tbsp vinegar.
          2 tbsp tomato puree.  Tomato sauce may be substituted, but don't
            let the People's Republic hear about it.  If you compromise by
            whizzing a tomato in the electric blender, the result will be
            more dilute than real puree -- reduce the water/stock content
            as suggested by sheer guesswork.  NB: I'm switching to tsp units
            now.  This warning might seem needless and fussy, but _I_
            remember the chutney I made using tablespoons rather than
            teaspoons of powdered cloves.  It was good for applying to
            hollow teeth.
          1 tsp sesame oil.
          1/2 tsp chili powder.  (Or more.  Or lots more.)
          1/2 tsp five-spice powder.

Stir all sauce ingredients together until Godot arrives or obvious lumps
have departed, whichever occurs first.  Put meat in a suitable casserole
with a lid, together with the chopped huge onion, which I have just decided
is probably optional too.  Pour on sauce, thrust into a coolish oven
(Eminent authority in the form of K.Whitehorn says this means 225F or 110C,
but I doubt that it's necessary for you to check this to 0.5 degree
precision with a pyrometer) and leave to its own devices for say 4 hours.

As the moment of truth approaches, have a look under the lid and -- if the
gooey parts seem a bit thin and runny -- add more cornflour stirred into
sherry.  (Add some sherry anyway.  Have fun.)  Wait a few minutes more,
serve with rice, and be sure to use a washable tablecloth.

One of the great secrets of unauthentic cooking is that most ingredients,
all proportions and all cooking times are negotiable... so don't fret about
precise chronology and amounts.  This is one of those squidgy dishes which
anyway never turn out the same twice running -- largely because in spite of
those frighteningly scientific tbsps and tsps, one ends up (a) judging half
the quantities by eye, and (b) throwing in interesting-looking extras for
luck.  Water chestnuts and cashews were both Good Ideas.  Sugar-coated
fennel seeds, Asian style, were agreed to be a mistake.  (I'd actually been
reaching for the next jar along.  This sort of thing used to happen all the
time when I worked with nuclear explosives.)

I think I'll skip the Langford pear wine recipe, since it may only work with
the peculiarly vile and maggot-ridden pears produced by our garden, and
winemaking technicalities are even more tedious than tbsps, and -- the
clinching argument -- I've lost the bloody recipe anyway.  It would,
however, be unBritish to close without some vaguely booze-related items.

The following have been tested on recent overnight visitors, and provide
ideal conversation pieces at breakfast.  They can also be eaten, on
toast....

             _Really Quite Authentic Post-Party Welsh Rarebit_

This comes with an epigraph from Don Marquis ("the bilge and belch of the
glutton welsh as they smelted their warlock cheese / surged to and fro where
the grinding floe wrenched at the headlands knees") and shows how Britons
can bring themselves to consume beer even for breakfast, with the aid of:

          Cheese, the delicate variety known here as "mousetrap," i.e.
            case-hardened old cheddar from the fridge, and any and all
            wizened, dried-up bits left over from last night's party food.
            Only good cheese is _verboten_.
          Black pepper, to taste.
          An egg.  Maybe two if you're making an awful lot.
          Bread.
          A little bitter beer (if none is available fresh, there are the
            dregs of glasses and bottles from that party, and after that
            you can start shaking and smelling abandoned cans to verify
            that they contain some stale beer but have not been adapted as
            impromptu ashtrays.  As you see, we're talking real sleaze here).

Grate all the cheese and moisten the resulting flakes with the quantity of
beer considered to be "enough," producing muck of sufficiently stiff
consistency that it can be spread on toast but will not flow off it while
cold.  (Think "slime mould.")  Stir in either the tediously separated yolk
of the egg -- which is marginally more authentic -- or the egg's entire
contents: in either case, this is what keeps the spread from flowing merrily
off the toast when it _is_ cooked.  Slice and toast some bread; spread with
goop; sprinkle with pepper etc. as desired; grill until brown and bubbly;
eat.

The first stage of this recipe will always produce more of the gooey mixture
than you expect, even when you know what to expect; but people are generally
happy to carry on eating the result until supplies fail.  "God help us, for
we knew the worst too young."

It was famous Aussie fan Judith Hanna who forced the invention of this
succulent slime, one groan-laden morning after a Langford party.  She
started converting odd remnants of cheese, milk and things into a sort of
breakfast fondue.  After long stirring and perspiring comments of "I'm sure
this is the right way to do it," she found herself with a revolting viscous
mass which squatted sullenly in the pan and refused point-blank to dissolve
in an orderly fashion into the thin steaming pus which surrounded it.

Before starting again and coming up with unauthentic rarebit as above, we
poured the results of Judith's alchemy into an unloved tree-stump which had
persistently refused to stop sending up shoots.  It died within a month.

Meanwhile, for those with a sweet tooth, there is always...

          _Langford Patent Juniper And Quinine Lemon Marmalade_

The ingredients are even less rigorously quantitative than before:

          Many lemons.
          Quite a lot of white sugar.
          Some water.
          Some more water (solid phase).
          The all-important MARINADE.

This is not a recipe for the faint-hearted.  Our most recent batch of this
marmalade was two years in the making.  (You will need a spare corner in
the freezer, by the way.) It is the marinade which makes the process such
a prolonged one, since only a small amount of lemon can be properly treated
at one time.

The marinade should be prepared in the six- or eight-ounce liquor glass of
your choice; it consists of approximately one part of gin to four (or two,
or six, or one; who am I to cramp your culinary style?) of a good
proprietary tonic water.  "Diet" tonic water will completely ruin the
flavour, although the marmalade will probably turn out OK.  Ice may be
added, and one slice of lemon is then slid delicately into the glass.

(Americans sometimes seem puzzled by subtle allusions to tonic water.  Soda
water might be good enough for T. S. Eliot's foot-bath, but is _not_ the
same: you want the stuff which is or used to be flavoured with quinine.
Throw away those malaria chills, and walk again.)

It is a well-known phenomenon, extensively documented by Charles Fort,
that this marinade evaporates with startling swiftness.  Quite soon the
prepared lemon slice can be removed from your suddenly empty glass and
dropped into a plastic bag in the freezer.  It is now permissible to treat
another slice...  and so on while supplies of marinade ingredients hold out
and the cook can remain upright.

An admixture of non-marinated lemon is permissible: our 1987 batch of this
fine preserve gained additional, subtle flavour from the inclusion of
(a) partially mildewed half-lemons discovered in the fridge after periods
of slackness in marinade treatments; (b) lemon slices included with
takeaway Indian meals, and thus interestingly flavoured with a soupon of
tandoori sauce; (c) country-of-origin labels accidentally left sticking to
the occasional lemon rind.

When "enough" has been accumulated -- meaning that the plastic bag is full,
the previous batch has run out, or one's spouse is complaining loudly about
lack of space in the freezer -- the final preparations are easy.  All the
lemon shards are thawed, pips and things (especially moving things) removed,
and the whole lot chopped thinly (perfectionist method) or shoved brutally
through a mincer (my method).

It all goes in a big pan with the amount of water indicated above, being as
little as will see you through the next stage.  Bring to the boil and simmer
for an hour or two, stirring with lackadaisical grace, until the bits are
soft.  During this period you are free to realize that you should have shut
the doors and windows, since the penetrating smell acts as a long-range lure
for enormous kamikaze wasps.  Add _exactly_ the amount of sugar specified
above... no, I tell a lie, we just tip in more sugar until it tastes
"right," meaning not too bitter to be eaten thinly spread on the substrate
of your choice.  Another half-hour of simmering and it can be ladled via a
large jam funnel into previously heated jars.  Put on the lids before too
many loathsome spores drift in, hoping to surprise Sir Alexander Fleming.

(Our 1987 batch behaved in a semi-miraculous way: on the third day, instead
of rising, it finally condescended to set.)

Certain aspects of the procedure are sufficiently boring -- especially the
long simmering and the even longer wait for the stuff to set firmly enough
to be tried -- that to pass the time one finds oneself irresistibly impelled
to start work anew, marinating lemons for the next batch.  Any fan wishing
to drop in and help, thus cutting down that two-year preparation time, will
be very welcome.  Bring your own marinade ingredients.

Scholarly References:

Kingsley Amis: _On Drink_, 1972; _Every Day Drinking_, 1983.
M.F.K.Fisher: anything and everything.
Maurice Healy: _Stay me with Flagons_, 1940.
George Saintsbury: _Notes on a Cellar-Book_, 1920.
Katherine Whitehorn: _How to Survive in the Kitchen_, 1979.
Colin Wilson: _A Book of Booze_, 1974.
%e
*EOA*


%t Gruenau, Namibia, Africa, Earth
%n 2R40
%s Relax.  Have another sandwich.
%a Michael Bleyer  ([e-mail])
%d 19930713
%x Earth
%i Sandwiches
%e
So you actually ended up in this place, hmm?  Well, otherwise you would
hardly be reading this article.  You don't know how it happened?  Well,
rest assured that this is the first thought that comes to everyone's mind
passing through there.   While trying to figure it out you can check out
some of the features it has to offer.

This is where we get to the point.  Not much.  That is, unless you are
a geologist and interested in the wide variety of stones and sand.
Besides some houses and about 200 inhabitants, there is also a road and
a gas station.  While waiting for a ride, try some of the sandwiches they
offer.  By far the best sandwiches you'll find on the continent.  If you
enjoy such delicacies as dried Kudu and Springbok meat (homemade), there
is a little hut beside the road some miles north of the gas station where
they offer this in exchange for money.  I have been told it is pretty good
as well.

If you get lucky, you can watch some giraffes roller-skating down the road
with large trucks tied to their feet.  Not that this sport is allowed
anywhere in Africa, but the local cops are pretty cool, so this is
tolerated.

Other things that are not available are rides to other places.  In such a
desperate situation, do not be tempted to ride with german tourists, which
travel in khaki-coloured Land Rovers.  They are obviously in pursuit of
adventure, and driving fast on these sand roads is suicidal.

Relax.  Have another sandwich.
%e
*EOA*


%t Dingle, Liverpool, England, Earth
%n 2R41
%s A BTEC National Diploma In Comp Studies Essay Extract
%a Roy Anthony McPartland  ([e-mail])
%d 19920322
%x Park Road Sports Centre
%x Earth
%e
INTRODUCING THE DINGLE

This is the area of Liverpool where I, Roy McPartland, live and thus
seemed to be a logical place to conduct my research.  The Dingle is a
densely packed urban area of roughly one square mile with few work places
apart from commercial premises.  Its population is expanding reasonably
quickly, which adds to the problem of its housing shortage.  An added
problem is that a high proportion of the population of the area are
unemployed.  As this area is not a district of the city, but a community,
it is extremely hard to show on a map.  A rough guide to the
parts of the city know as the Dingle would be from Upper Warwick Street
to Aigburth Road, and from Grafton Street to Princes Road.

This text has been taken from my part of a group assignment the aim
of which was to define what constitutes leisure, and highlight the
leisure facilities in three areas of Liverpool.  I decided to set about
finding as much information as I could about the leisure facilities in
the Dingle; this is a summation of this research.

I felt that I needed to use one such facility as an example of the best
that the Dingle had to offer.  The Park Road Centre for Sport seemed an
ideal opportunity to do this.  Mrs. Mary Hill, the receptionist, helped
me considerably when I asked her about the range of activities at the
centre.

FINDINGS

Sport in the Dingle is quite well catered for with two council-run
sports centres not to far for each other (the Toxteth Sports Centre and
the Park Road Centre for Sport, which will be focused on later).  There
are also numerous places where it is possible top play "footie," a local
variation of the well regarded pastime of soccer, but without as many
rules.  One of these places is adjacent the Toxteth Sports Centre and is
frequently uses by local amateur teams, as it was built by the City
council for local use.  But it's not only the organized groups who can
use it; anyone can at any time, but it is mostly uses by children,
young(ish) adults, and people (usually male) in their 20s to 30s.  The
local police have even set up a sports club association, with the aim to
bring sport, the police, and the community together.

Not everyone is fond of physical exertion, and for these people there are
twenty nine pubs to choose from, catering for everyone over eighteen.  The
older females of the community seem to make a beeline for the eight
privately owned clubs (four of these offer bingo halls), while most of the
men just want to be left alone for a couple of hours in the area's six
betting offices.

Those people who wish to broaden their minds have a choice of two council-
run adult education centres, or there is the Toxteth Library, with easy
access for the disabled, and even easier access for the able-bodied.
Failing that, they can just select a stimulating video from one of the
area's four commercial video hire shops (although access for the wheelchair
bound, as with pubs, is less than perfect).

The Dingle's children are able to participate in various activities in
youth associations (church, charity, and council run), ranging from table
tennis to indoor five-a-side football, and the vary young can be supervised
in numerous day centres and playgroups, helping young parents find time to
do other things, such as working or studying.

I would now like to give an example of one of the best leisure facilities
the Dingle can provide: the Park Road Centre for Sport.  The Park Road
Centre for Sport is an average size, local council run, leisure centre
providing for the local community.  It is built around an eighty-four year
old wash house and swimming pool, with a sports hall added in 1984 (which
has just recently been enlarged) and it is in the process of fitting ramps
for the disabled.  Its size, however, conceals the fact that there is only a
limited amount of sports facilities to offer for able-bodied people, and
even less for the not.  See the article _Park Road Sports Centre_ for more
information.

The sports that are strongly catered for at the centre are swimming and
gymnastics.  The enlarged sports hall is dedicated to gymnastics, and the
training provided by the centre is of a world class nature; indeed, many of
the junior English champions have attended and trained there.  This may or
may not be a good thing for the Dingle.

CONCLUSIONS

In general, there are quite a lot of "pubs" and clubs, which cater to
customers of any gender from eighteen and over, and you receive what you
want (for an exuberant price) but access for the disabled is poor and
children are either not allowed in or are bored rigid.  There is also the
fact that alcohol is a large causing factor in many violent acts, which
are detrimental to the neighbourhood.

The three bingo clubs (populated by 45+ year olds) are well used.  Although
bingo is a form of gambling, the stakes are low (but so are the prizes),
and the people who play the game use it as an excuse to meet friends, talk,
etc.  The value for money for the game is low, but for the socializing it
is not too bad.

There is a reasonable, busy library which caters to all the community,
young, old, male and female.  No question of value for money here as the
lending of a book costs nothing.

Sports facilities and opportunities are abundant, which is good for the
physically active (male and female between 2 and 70 years old, usually
able-bodied) but not much use for those people who can not or do no want
to take up sports such as aquaerobics, football, etc.

The profusion of bookmakers is a sad sign of the times, being frequented
by the bored, the unemployed (this includes the 16-18 year olds), and
basically anyone who hopes to win a large amount of money.  These places
give an extremely low amount of value for money, and unlike bingo games,
people do not socialize in these establishments.  Also they offer no
entertainment value for the young or the disabled.

There is hope, however, as there are two adult education centres, for
those that wish to get out of the unemployment rut, or any one else who
wants to learn something new (except people under 16, who are still in
compulsory education).  For the unemployed courses are free, and for the
working the course fees are very reasonable, giving a fair amount of
value for money.

The youth clubs in the Dingle are well used and appreciated buy the
children and young adults of the area, with a small entrance fee.  Apart
from these clubs there is not many facilities on offer for the young,
apart from the aforementioned sports centres (and even) bookmakers.  This
may point to the reason for the emigration from the Dingle to other parts
of the city by young people.

In my opinion, the Dingle is quite poorly provided for in the leisure
sector, with only a limited rang of facilities on offer to the various
social groups being targeted, the young and the disabled of the community
are the people being the least targeted.

The following is a leisure index of the Dingle area of Liverpool:

ADULT EDUCATION CENTRES

    City of Liverpool Community College, Windsor Street Site,
      Windsor Street 8
    Shorefields Community School and Adult Education Centre,
      Dingle Vale 8

BOOKMAKERS

    Dick Brown Racing, 122 Mill Street 8
    Mersey Racing, 478 Mill Street 8
    Oakfield Racing, 442 Mill Street 8
    Reliant Racing, 60 Park Road 8
    Stanley Racing, 115 Windsor Street 8
    William Hills, 204 Park Road 8

CLUBS AND BINGO HALLS

    Beresford Social Club, 125 Parkhill Road 8
    East & West Toxteth Social Club, Park Road 8
    Mount Carmel Social Club, 33 High Park Street 8
    St Malachy's Social Club, Beauford Street 8
    St Patrick's Memorial Hall, Park Place 8
    Top Rank Ltd., Park Road 8
    United Services Club, Hawkstone Street 8

LIBRARIES

    Toxteth Library, Windsor Street 8

PLAYGOUPS AND DAY CENTRES

    The Elms Day Nursery, 1 The Elms 8
    Shiela Kay Day Centre, High Park Street 8

PUBLIC HOUSES AND BARS

    The Alexandra, 135 Upper Hill Street 8
    The Angelsea, 94 Beresford Road 8
    Angel Vaults, 29 Stanhope Street 8
    The Bankhouse, 144 Windsor Street 8
    Bleakhouse, 131 Parkhill Road 8
    Clancey's, 102 Mill Street 8
    The Crown, 120 Park Road 8
    The Derby Arms, 365 Mill Street 8
    The Dingle, 268 Park Road 8
    The Empress, 93 High Park Street 8
    The Farmer Arms, 64 Park Road 8
    The Globe, 44 Park Road 8
    The Grapes, Windsor Street 8
    The Great Eastern, 102 Mill Street 8
    The High Park, 187 Park Road 8
    The Jolly, Hawkstone Street 8
    Peter Kavanagh's, 2-6 Egerton Street 8
    The Pheonix, 125 Cockburn Street 8
    The Pineapple Hotel, 258 Park Road 8
    Poet's Corner, 27 Parkhill Road 8
    The Prince, 2 Bessemer Street 8
    The Queen's Arms, 100 Admiral Street 8
    The Queen's Head Hotel, North Hill Street 8
    The Royal Oak, 1 Upper Warwick Street 8
    The Showboat, 6 Mill Street 8
    The South Hill, 2 Menzies Street 8
    The Star, 22 Warwick Street 8
    The Toxteth, 141 Park Street 8
    The Volunteer, Park Place 8
    The Wellington, Mill Street 8
    The Windsor Castle, Windsor Street 8

SPORTS CENTRES AND ASSOCIATIONS

    Merseyside Police Sports & Social Club,
      F Division  Admiral Street Station 8
    Park Road Centre for Sport, Steble Street 8
    Toxteth Sports Centre, Upper Hill Street 8

VIDEO HIRE SHOPS

    A.H.F Video, 236 Park Road 8
    Videoland, 168 North Hill Street 8
    Warwick Video World, 43 Warwick Street 8
    Windsor Video, 121 Winsor Street 8

YOUTH CLUBS AND ASSOCIATIONS

    Belvidere Youth & Community Centre, Miles Street 8
    David Lewis Association, Upper Stanhope Street 8
    Toxteth Tabernacle, Baptist Church  Park Road 8
%e
*EOA*


%t Park Road Sports Centre
%n 2R43
%s Details of available sports, including swimming and gymnastics
%a Roy Anthony McPartland  ([e-mail])
%d 19920322
%x Dingle, Liverpool, England, Earth
%e
The following are details on the sports to be found at the Park Road
Sports Centre, in alphabetical order:

AQUAFIT

Water-based keep-fit classes for a hour on a Monday from 7.00pm and
8.00pm for #1.40.

AQUANATAL

A hour-long session of movement and music in the small pool from 10.00am on
a Monday for mothers and babies (#1.85 or for leisure pass holders 75p).

GYMNASTICS

The Park Road sports centre is the city's premier location for gymnastic
training, churning out gold medal winners like a sausage machine.  Its
sports hall is entirely devoted to this cause.  So many young hopefuls have
been trying to attend the gymnastics classes that the hall has had to be
enlarged by 67 percent.  The training sessions with the coaches themselves
are quite cheap (#1.40 youngsters, #2.20 adults), but have to be arranged by
appointment.  There are organized sessions for beginners (under 8s) on
Saturday mornings, and for "over the hills" on Wednesdays (7.30-9.00pm ).

GYMTOTS

This is a basic introduction to movement and dance in a fun environment for
under 5s costing #1.85.  It takes place on a Monday (10.00-11.00am)
(11.00-12.00pm) (12.00-1.00pm) (1.00-2.00pm) and on a Friday (11.00-12.00pm)
(12.00-1.00pm) (1.00-2.00pm).

HEALTH SUITE

Over 18s can use the centre's sauna, sun beds (for 30 minutes), steam
and spa baths (which are all incorporated within the lounge area) for
#1.20, if you're a non-leisure pass holder, and for free if you hold on or
you're an O.A.P.

KEEP-FIT

Land-based aerobics (with female dance instructor) for an hour, costing
#1.40.  Available on a Tuesday (7.00pm-8.00pm), Thursday (7.30pm-8.30pm)
and Sunday (3.00pm-4.00pm).

LADIES-ONLY WEIGHT TRAINING

Adults only for #1.40 a Monday (7.30pm-8.15pm), Tuesday (1.30pm-2.15pm),
Wednesday and on a Friday at (7.30pm-8.15pm).

PUBLIC WEIGHT TRAINING

For #1.40, adults and juniors (14-16 year olds) on a Monday to Wednesday
(9.00am-7.00pm), Thursday (9.00am-9.00pm) and on a Friday (9.00am-7.00pm).

SWIMMING, OPEN TO THE PUBLIC

This takes place in either of the centre's two pools (one small, one
large), costing #1.40 for adults, and 85p for children and O.A.Ps.  The
times are :

    LARGE POOL                             SMALL POOL
         MON    9.00am-6.00pm                   9.00am-9.00pm
         TUE    9.00am-6.00pm                   9.00am-9.00pm
         WED    8.30am-7.00pm                   9.00am-9.00pm
         THU    9.00am-7.00pm                   9.00am-9.00pm
         FRI    8.30am-7.00pm                   9.00am-9.00pm
         SAT    9.00am-4.00pm                   9.00am-4.00pm
         SUN    9.00am-4.00pm                   9.00am-4.00pm

For swimmers with disabilities, special hours are between 7.00pm and 8.00pm
on a Tuesday (in the large pool) for the same price as the public swimming.
%e
*EOA*


%t UseNet and the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Known Galaxy
%n 2R44
%s ST News Magazine, Issue 1, Volume 7, 11 January 1992
%a Stefan Posthuma  ([e-mail])
%d 19920111
%i ST News Magazine article on the UseNet
%x Earth
*
* Article submitted by Roy McPartland ([e-mail])
*
%e
Every morning when I walk into the office of SPC, I sit down at my
console terminal, log in and start a program called 'nn'.  This program
gives me access to the about 80 Megabytes of Network News that is stored
somewhere on the 1.2 Gigabytes hard disk of the main host in our little
network.

The Network News is a part of the Usenet or Internet.  This is a global
network that has thousands and thousands of computers connected to it at
thousands of sites, ranging from individual users to big companies like
IBM and Microsoft (and Atari for that matter.)

This Network News is a collection of articles of which there are
thousands being sent every day by a LOT of people.  If I post (send) a
message, it is sent to the central machine for Holland in Amsterdam.
This machine collects all the messages from all machines in Holland that
are attached to the Usenet.  Every hour or so, this machine sends its
collected messages to a lot of machines abroad, typically to every central
machine in every country that is in the network.

At night, our computer calls the one in Amsterdam and collects all the
messages that have arrived there during the day.  They are then processed
and divided into groups and formatted, etc.  The next morning, they will
be waiting for me, ready to be read.

Every night, a couple of thousand messages come in, and it is of course
impossible for me to read them all.  So they are divided into groups,
each group discussing a certain subject.  Groups are divided into
sub-groups and so on.  Take for example the group 'alt'.  Alt contains
all 'alternative' things, items that do not have to relate to computers.
So there is an 'alt.tv' subgroup that deals with TV.  This one is
subdivided into groups like 'alt.tv.simpsons' and 'alt.tv.twin-peaks,'
the latter being at the top of my list of groups to read; it is very
interesting to see what people have to say about this remarkable program.

But it goes a lot further. I mean there is an 'alt.sex' group, and even
an 'alt.sex.bestiality' where people actually discuss the sexual
attractions of ponies and other animals.  And how about 'alt.satanism'
or 'alt.evil'?

There are also more serious groups about religion, philosophy, and of
course computer things.  Groups about C programming, modems, printers,
Xwindows, networks etc.  The 'comp' group is one of the biggest around.
So if I have problem getting my TCP sockets to work, I post a message
to 'comp.networks.tcpip' and a few dozen to a few thousand people
(depending on the popularity of the newsgroup) will read it and one of
them will surely have the answer.

It is a great way to reach a lot of people with the same interests.  It
was originally intended for computer topics, but it has stretched way
beyond that.

Another part of the Network is the Email facilities.  Using a program
like 'elm' (ELectronic Mail), I can send personal messages to people
that are 'on the net'.  So if there is a person called 'godzilla' and he
is on a machine called 'nirvana' and that machine is on a network called
'dreamscape' in the USA, his address would be:
'[e-mail]'.  So I can type any message and send it
to him.  It will then travel to Amsterdam, be queued there and sent to a
central machine in the US.  This machine will then send it to the
dreamscape network where the mailhost will then route it to the machine
nirvana and the local mailer there would put it in godzilla's mailbox.
Godzilla reads my message and replies to me ([e-mail]).  The whole
process will take no more than one or two days.  If I mail to people in
Holland, I have a reply the same day.

Now you are probably wondering why the hell the Hitchhiker's Guide is in
the title of this article.

Well, recently the group 'alt.fan.douglas-adams' has been created.  In
this group, people chat about the absurd books that Mr. Adams has written
and one of them had the idea to create a kind of Hitchhiker's Guide to
Earth or something.  It will be a database filled with descriptions of
things to be found on Earth - descriptions of people, things, countries,
religions, whatever.  This group is called 'alt.galactic-guide.'

I could submit messages about Holland, Amsterdam, the Coffee shops,
Windmills, Dykes, whatever!  There are already countless people interested,
and it is expected that this database will grow to be at least a couple of
Megabytes.  Ideally, you could request any subject and the Guide would
give you a description.

They have devised a way of submitting entries for this real Guide, and
they want as many people to contribute as possible.  So if you think you
can describe something in an interesting and/or funny way, feel free to do
so and send them to me.  I will see to it that they get sent to the right
person on the Usenet.  Of course if you have access to the Usenet you can
check it out for yourself.

Entries have to be in a certain format, available at various FTP sites and
frequently posted to the 'alt.galactic-guide' group.  So get writing, think
up funny entries and send them to me!

[ Articles and requests for info may be sent to any of the following:

  Editor   1 : Paul J. Clegg  ([e-mail])
  Editor   2 : Steve Baker    ([e-mail])

  The Project Galactic-Guide FTP site is:

  vela.acs.oakland.edu (141.210.10.2) in /pub/galactic-guide       - SWB ]
%e
*EOA*


%t Amsterdam, Netherlands, Earth
%s The Ultimate Hitchhiker's Paradise for Ultra Cool Froods
%a James Agay  ([e-mail])
%n 2R45
%d 19930515
%x Earth
%e
As the well traveled Hitchhiker will know, there are few places on
Earth that come close to being as cool a place to be as Amsterdam.
This is even more true for a Hitchhiker.  Amsterdam has many special
features that make it ideal for the Hitchhiker:

          1) It is well connected to everywhere in Europe via rail.
          2) It is completely acceptable to sleep in any public
             facility, particularly the train station, airport, or
             on the surface of a subway platform.
          3) Accommodation is cheap for the indiscriminate.
          4) Drugs are legal and can be bought in bars from menus.
          5) Item 2 has developed into a social reality as a result
             of item 4.
          6) Anyone with a keen sense of where their towel is can
             ride the streetcars free, and on a good night even take a
             train out to the airport free.
          7) Prostitutes pose in shop windows and give new meaning to
             the phrase "window shopping."
          8) The good bars don't close until about 9:00 AM.


ACCOMMODATION

Due to the legality of drugs, it is very common to see youthful
Hitchhiker-types lying sprawled about on the ground.  They often
collect outside churches, on benches, and around the Central Station.

If you find yourself trying to make it through Amsterdam on a budget
that puts accommodation low on the list of spending priorities, then
you are in luck.  The best way to find accommodation is to be with a
group of friends, intoxicate yourself severely (preferably with cannabis),
and hope for the best.  When you decide it's time to crash, try the train
station: it's safer than further in town since there are porters that
will probably prevent any _major_ harm from befalling you.

If you have to rest in the outdoors, try to avoid the parks.  When last
I visited Amsterdam there was an average of one body found in the parks
per night.  (Mostly junkies OD'ing, but play it safe).

The well-heeled traveler may wish to stay in better surroundings.  The
airport is a good choice.  Sneak onto a late night train to the airport
from the central station.  When you get out you will be near the baggage
lockers.  If you are lucky (and early) enough, you may find a table to
lay on.  The locker area is nice all around; it's quiet and dark.
Try on top of the lockers - no one will bother you there.  Sleeping on
top of the locker banks earns respect.

If the locker area is full, another good part of the airport is the
upper level of the concourse.  Try the service elevator to the Admin
area. It is both quiet and safe.  The only disadvantage is at about
6:30 AM a floor polishing zambonie will come by.


BARS

Here a few places to look into:

          1) The Bulldog (Basement ONLY; the upstairs is a tourist hole)
             Nice atmosphere, a bit pricy.  Sells fancy varieties of hash.
          2) The Grasshopper: nice location on the canal.  Buy one drink
             and attempt to stretch it into several hours just to be in
             such a cool place.
          3) La Rocha: my choice for late night.  Open all hours, plus
             an attractive bamboo and grass decour.  Good pool tables.
          4) The Joystick: bit of a dive, but the price is right.
             Hangout for British Hitchhikers.  Good place to meet people.


GENERAL TIPS

Find a locker - the Airport is good - and place all your valuables
there.  Where you are going, you won't need a watch.  Don't carry ID.
Just cash.  Try to keep you cash, the bulk of it, well hidden.  You
wallet is a bad place.  Attach you locker key to your person with string.
If you decide to sleep outdoors with a bag, tie it to your shoelaces.
If someone bigger then you wants something, run if you can.  Never run
without clearly knowing where you are going.  Always have a
safer-then-here spot in mind.  You might otherwise end up in an even
less safe alley.  Watch out for junkies in withdrawal.  They are mostly
harmless but they can get nasty when looking for drug money.  I had
my hat stolen after arguing for twenty minutes over whether I should
buy it back from the guy who took it for ten guilders so he could buy
cocaine.  Just be careful.  They will usually settle for your hat once
they understand that you have no money either.  It is important to be
able to prove that you have no money at all times.
%e
*EOA*


%t Bars, European
%s Bars to look out for
%a James Agay  ([e-mail])
%n 2R46
%x Geneva, Switzerland, Earth
%x Amsterdam, Netherlands, Earth
%x Earth
%d 19930515
%e
If you have the good fortune to find yourself in Europe, here are a few
recommendations:

          1) Le Carlton, Charmonix, France.  Behind the casino.
             This is a combination pizzeria/bar.  The pizza is
             good and cheap - probably the best way to spend your
             money on food.  There are cheaper meals but you get a
             lot of pizza for your money, and Carmonix is a _very_
             expensive town.  The bar is good, not too expensive, with
             small but fun pool tables, good music, and generally
             friendly.  Be sure to order 'Bier avec pecan'.  That's beer
             mixed with a liqueur called Pecan.  It's no Gargle Blaster
             but it still packs a wallop.  Two thumbs up.

          2) La Rocha, Amsterdam, Holland.  My choice for late night.
             Open all hours, plus an attractive bamboo and grass decour.
             Be careful of the stairs leading to the upstairs drug room.
             They are steep and get steeper as the morning approaches.
             Good pool tables but be careful not to get hustled.  Beer
             is expensive (like $8 for a pint), but try the fruit juice.
             Drugs are cheap.  Located along the main street, just down
             from the station.

          3) The Babies, Benidorm, Spain.  Definitely the hoopiest place
             in Benidorm, and Benidorm is a city that is partying 24 hours.
             A good night in Benidorm lasts until about 10:30 the next
             morning, then cover yourself with a big towel and sleep under
             a boardwalk on the beach.  My personal record is 4 good nights
             in a row, which really borders on self abuse.  The Babies is
             the only real hard rockin' bar in the central part of town.
             The decour is black.  The tables, floor, walls, roof, etc. all
             black.  The music is loud, both in volume and style.  At the
             bar, you can only order by pointing at your empty glass or
             bottle, so it is important to bring a bottle in with you to
             order with, since verbal communication is impossible.  I am not
             joking.  You need an empty beer to order a full one.  It costs
             about $1 per pint so plan on self abusive consumption.

          4) Citroin, Paris, France.  This is a place to check out.  Don't
             plan on more then one drink since the prices are in the
             stratosphere.  The Bar is on the Champs Elliesee.  This is a
             place to go once you are already more then half way through
             your night.  What makes this place special is it a bar,
             restaurant, antique car museum, and new car showroom, all in
             one, all jumbled together.  At least look around.  Watch out
             for the bouncers; they don't want people damaging the classic
             cars.

          5) Rotterdams (bar), Toronto, Canada.  Located on King Street,
             east of Spidina.  Watch out for the neighborhood.  A great,
             but expensive, bar featuring about 200 different beers.  Try
             the $15/per bottle Belgium peach beer.  Take a tour of the
             on-site brewery.  Try the Sunday buffet.

          6) Launbrau Beer Hall, Munich, Germany.  Ask anyone where it is.
             Massive bar.  This is the bar where Hitler survived a bomb in
             the 1930's.  This has been one of the biggest bars in Germany
             for hundreds of years.  Be there and just absorb the
             atmosphere.  If you are in the mood, order a glass of milk on
             the side.  I did; it took two hours.  Mind you it was in the
             early morning but it was fun.
%e
*EOA*


%t Pubs of Carlton/Fitzroy/Parkville, Melbourne, Australia, Earth
%n 2R47
%s A biased look at the watering holes of the Melbourne Uni area.
%a David McGregor Squire  ([e-mail])
%d 19931012
%i Australian Pubs
%x Earth
%e
Any hitchhiker who has recently arrived in or on a new planet, continent,
city, town, suburb or indeed house (for the less adventurous) is faced
with the same question: Where can I get a drink?  Once this question is
answered, a host of sub-questions arise: What can I get to drink?  What can
I expect to pay for it?  What will be standing next to me while I drink it?
What will it do to me (the drink OR the thing standing next to you)?

Most people on Earth live a long way from the pubs near Melbourne
University, Australia.  In fact, most Australians live a long way from them.
Actually, if the definition of "a long way" is taken to be "a distance
sufficient that I feel like a beer after walking it, especially if it's hot
outside," then everyone (with the possible exception of the live-in
publicans) lives A LONG WAY from these pubs.  This, it is widely agreed, is
a shame.

This article aims to answer the usual initial questions for the hitchhiker
who has made it to the immediate vicinity of The University of Melbourne in
Australia (having, by definition, travelled A LONG WAY to get there).  Such
a person will be standing in one of the following suburbs: Carlton, Fitzroy,
or Parkville.  If you are in Melbourne, at a University and NOT in one of
these suburbs, then you are in trouble.  You are probably at Monash
University and you will have to go to "The Nott" (their only pub).  This
researcher suggests that you go to the Nott and purchase a slab (24 cans) of
Victoria Bitter (VB) and then hitch to Carlton, applying a medicinal VB
whenever the dreariness of the outer suburbs really starts to get you down.

Now for a pub-by-pub tour of the area.  But first, let us reflect upon the
aptness of the phrase "pub-by-pub tour."  Hitchhikers contemplating visiting
the area should be aware that many long-term residents of the area in fact
navigate solely by pubs.

Here is a sample conversation:

RESIDENT 1: "Where is `The Vegie Bar'?"  (It's a restaurant, not a bar.)
RESIDENT 2: "You know the Clyde?"
RESIDENT 1: "Yeah."
RESIDENT 2: "Go to the Clyde and then head straight down the street
            towards Percy's.  Go past Percy's and keep going in the same
            direction until you get to the Provincial.  Turn left and keep
            going until you get to the Evelyn.  Cross the street to the
            Punter's Club.  The Vegie Bar is just across the street
            (the other street) from you."
RESIDENT 1: "Thanks mate."
RESIDENT 2: "No worries.  Go you blue boys!"
             (Reference to local footy team.)
RESIDENT 1: "Ah... yeah mate."

Or, in extreme cases:

RESIDENT 1: "Where did you grow up?"
RESIDENT 2: "Webster St., Wendouree."
RESIDENT 1: "Where?"
RESIDENT 2: "You know the Redback?"
RESIDENT 1: "Yeah"
RESIDENT 2: "Go to the Redback, head out west for 117 kilometres...."

So, we see that knowing the pubs is going to be useful in many more ways
than one.  Now let's get started.  All prices are in Australian dollars.
At the time of writing, 1 $A ~= 0.66 $US.

Here we go.  (Here we go, etc.)

THE CLYDE

Location:       Cnr. Elgin St. & Cardigan St. Carlton
Layout:         Public Bar, Bistro, Beer Garden.

Description:

The Clyde is very close to Melbourne Uni, and consequently has a large
student component to its clientele.  It is the pub of choice for Queen's
and Newman Colleges, and also the Science faculty.  Students tend to
populate the Bistro (well, it says Bistro on the sign outside but it is in
fact just the back bar), which is decorated in a dreadful mock-medieval
style.

Thankfully it is usually so full of drunk students and loud music that no
one notices the decor.  The atmosphere is friendly, and it is furnished
with long tables with chairs.  Also a few small tables at the other end.
Depending on the student density/drunkeness you can actually sit down and
talk to someone.

The Beer Garden adjoins the back bar, and is plain concrete with plastic
chairs and umbrellas.  This is really just extra back bar for when the
weather's good.  At least you can spill your drinks, throw up, etc. without
worrying about the medieval decor (as if you would... worry, that is).

The front bar has regulars.  Behind the bar is a collection of "Clyde Hotel"
glasses with regulars names' engraved on them.  The owner (Frank Viola)
presents one to a regular on his (they are all male, or approximately so)
birthday.  These are the guys who have been coming there for years and think
nothing of going to the pub by themselves because they are sure to meet some
one they know, even if it's just the bar staff.  These are also the guys who
become uneasy if "Cheers" comes on the TV in the bar.  Especially the fat
guy who sits in the corner.  (A lovely bloke called Geoff.  In fact he is
half the size that he used to be, so fat isn't really fair.  What's the past
tense of fat?)

The front bar regulars are different during daylight hours.  During daylight
they are the guys who work for the city council and wear blue overalls and
day-glo orange vests.  They apparently sit in the pub drinking, waiting for
the call (perhaps they have pagers) to leap out and, for instance, lean on a
spade while watching another bloke dig a hole.  That is what council workers
do.

Drinks:

        Beers on tap:
                Carlton Draught     $1.60
                Victoria Bitter     $1.60
                Guinness            more
                Toohey's Blue       less
                Toohey's Classic    less

        Usual mixed drinks, etc. are available at the bar.  Stubbies of many
        other Australian and imported beers, too.

Food:

The back bar is also where meals are served.  Prices range from about $6.50
for pasta to $10.00 for steak.  All meals come with a side-serve of salad.
The steak with pepper sauce is great.

Summary:

The Clyde is a terrific pub, with good food and good beer at reasonable
prices.  The bar staff is noted for its friendliness.  It is the sort of
place you want to go back to.  Note that if one day Frank gives you a glass
with your name on it, you have stopped hitchhiking.  Probably years ago.

NAUGHTON'S

Location:       Cnr. Royal Parade & Morrah St., Parkville.
Layout:         Public Bar, Lounge/Bistro.

Description:

Naughton's is the traditional Melbourne University pub.  The word
traditional is used here in the sense of "used to be" rather than "always
was and always will be."  This is not to say that Naughto's (as it is
known) has completely lost its way.  It has just failed to respond to
competition.  It is still, however, a major student pub.

Not so very long ago, Naughton's was the home of the Melbourne University
major colleges.  There was a stained glass window with four panels.  The
panels contained the crests of Queen's, Newman, Trinity and Ormond colleges.
On the first night of the University year the pub would be packed to
overflowing as college freshers queued for their chance to "kiss the crest,"
in a ritual dating back tens of years.  This charming, if unhygienic, custom
has now been lost.  The panels have been removed and framed - ostensibly for
their protection.  The fact is that they were so highly respected that they
were in no danger, and now the atmosphere has been lost.  The incidence of
shared infections amongst freshmen has not changed in the slightest, since
their means of body-fluid exchange almost invariably cut out "middle-men"
like the previously saliva-encrusted crest.

Much of Naughton's traditional custom has been lost to The Clyde and
(shudder) night clubs.  Trinity, Ormond, and the Philosophy Department still
drink there, which in many ways is reason enough not to.  It is bad enough
trying to drink a beer whilst nagged by thought that maybe you don't exist
when you can safely attribute the thought to excess alcohol (I have often
been quite convinced that the tip of my nose doesn't exist, and I see no
reason why the rest of me should not go the same way given enough beer).  It
is much worse when the bloke next to you is quite sure that YOU DON'T EXIST,
and is not sure that he does, and is absolutely sober.

However, Naughto's is still sought out by Melbourne University alumni and
college old boys and girls, and is really still very pleasant.  It offers a
lounge with pew-like seats deeply etched with the graffiti of past scholars,
pool tables, darts, and innumerable memories for many.  They still have "Bat
Out Of Hell" on the juke box, and "Paradise By The Dashboard Light" is still
played by freshettes now as it ever was.  They also have Toohey's Old Brown
Ale on tap, which is a GOOD THING.

Drinks:

        On tap:
                Carlton Draught
                Victoria Bitter
                Toohey's Old (!)
                Guinness
        Usual bar stuff.

Food:
        Yes.  Snack Form.  Steak sandwiches, hot dogs, pies, pasties,
        nachos, chips, etc.

Summary:

A Melbourne University tradition.  Good beer, nice old photos and oars on
the walls.  Meatloaf discs.  Go there at least once.

PRINCE ALFRED'S

Location:       Cnr. Grattan St. & Bouverie St., Carlton.
Layout:         Public Bar.  Other stuff.

Description:

PA's has a long tradition as the Engineer's pub (it is across the road
from the faculty).  A few years ago it was bought by John Platten (an
Australian Rules footballer who plays for Hawthorn) whose nickname is "The
Rat" (this is entirely irrelevant).  Platten used the brilliant pub-
renovation idea of stripping back the paintwork and then stopping.  This was
apparently done in the hope that it would look old and authentic, instead of
just looking like a pub which someone stopped renovating halfway through.
It looks like a pub which someone stopped renovating halfway through.

In an attempt to take the place "up-market," cocktails with sexually-
suggestive names were introduced.  This had its usual success.

The engineers still go there during the day and after five o'clock lectures.
If visiting during those hours expect many checked flannel shirts,
Blundstone work boots and moleskin pants.  Expect heavy metal music.  Expect
the conversation to be about cars and football.

The night scene at PA's is of course different.  PA's is not a Uni pub after
8:00pm.  It is thronged by people who are Out After Work.  They may be
identified by peroxided hair, tailored trousers (not jeans) and a
predilection for short-sleeve shirts with collars and a floral motif.

PA's has of course noticed the "higher" class of clientele that they attract
in the evening, and have taken steps to enhance their new-found
sophisticated image.  Gone are the Neanderthal bouncers with crew-cuts and
black T-shirts who would break your arm and throw you out into the street as
soon as look at you.  In are the Neanderthal bouncers with pony-tails, white
shirts and paisley waistcoats who would break your arm and throw you out
into the street as soon as look at you.

Drinks:
        Yes.

Food:
        Perhaps.

Summary:

It depends on what you like.  If it depended on what I liked, I would say
don't bother.

THE ALBION

Location:       Faraday St., b/w Lygon St. & Drummond St., Carlton.
Layout:         Single room off street.  Horrible.

Description:

The Albion is the remains of a once-great pub.  The old Albion occupied the
street corner and was famous for its dangerous clientele and good live
music.  Then most of it was sold to become a trendy women's clothing store.
The bit that was left at the back was refurbished to look up-market with
lots of tiles and black steel and chrome on the bar.

Unfortunately, the result looks like an ornate public toilet.  Also, the old
Albion's famous dangerous crowd stubbornly refused to acknowledge that their
former haunt was now a trendy bar, and kept turning up.  This resulted in it
NOT ever becoming a trendy bar.  In fact, its dark, smoke-filled interior
resembles nothing more than the "Cantina Scene" from Star Wars.

The Albion also has pool tables.  Associated with these tables is a
collection of very strange people indeed.  As an example, there is one old
man who drinks bourbon and is constantly playing or waiting to play.  He
looks a lot like Ferdinand Marcos.  In fact, he looks so much like Ferdinand
Marcos that you feel sure that he must be:

        A. Ferdinand Marcos
        B. A Cheat
        C. Dead

This researcher is pretty sure that A is false.  B is definitely true, and
is not sure about C.

Drinks:

The Albion pours beers from taps that say things like "Victoria Bitter" and
"Carlton Draught," but they always taste awful.  In fact they taste like
sulphur.  I have no explanation for this.  Perhaps it really is Hell.

Food:

        No.

Summary:

The Albion is not a place that this researcher would go to out of choice.
It is, however, the last pub in the area to shut (at about 5:00am in the
morning).  Consequently there is frequently no choice.  I know of a group
of friends that have a rule that the first person to say the word "Albion"
on a given night is known as "a complete idiot" for the rest of the night.
This seems fair.

THE JOKER BAR

Location:       1st Floor, Cnr. Faraday St. & Lygon St, Carlton.
Layout:         Single room.

Description:

This isn't actually a pub, so this will be brief.  The Joker Bar is above
the location of the old Albion.  It is layed-out as a night-club, with a
dance-floor, swirling lights, those marvellous mirrored balls (what will
they think of next!), girls who dance and guys who watch them.  The only
reason that it doesn't qualify as a night-club is that the drinks are
reasonably priced.  In fact cheap.  In fact they have $1.00 pots every
night of the week.  Just exactly what "beer" is in these pots has not been
established, and probably shouldn't be.  The "stuff they squeeze out of the
rag they wipe the bar with downstairs" theory has not been discounted.

Drinks:
        Yes.

Food:
        Snacks.

Summary:

If you dance, consider it.  If you like the idea of a beer and a chat with
friends, so much the better for you.

PERCY'S

Location:       Cnr. Lygon St. & Elgin St., Carlton.
Layout:         Front Bar, restaurant attached.

Description:

Another pub owned by a footballer - this time Percy Jones of Carlton fame.
This dark green pub has a cream interior.  As you can see, this researcher
is not overly familiar with it.  It has very high tables that cantilever
out from the walls on hinges.  Once you realise that they are hinged, your
beer never feels safe again.  These very high hinged "tables" are
thoughtfully equipped with very high stools (not hinged) so that you can
reach your beer.

Not a student pub.  It often has people wearing suits in it.

Drinks:

        They have them.  Carlton Draught I guess.  Probably others too.

Food:
        Well I hardly think that the restaurant is purely decorative,
        but I have never eaten there.

Summary:

A dark green pub.

STEWART'S

Location:       Cnr. Elgin St. & Drummond St., Carlton.
Layout:         Bar and Restaurant on Ground Floor, Bar, dancefloor and
                band upstairs.
Description:

A pink pub with the incredibly tackily named "Sunfleur" restaurant attached.
I have had friends in bands who played in the room upstairs.  You should
not attend any pub which would let them play.  I would not drink anything
from an establishment prepared to treat its customers like that.

Drinks:
        Yes.

Food:
        Presumably.

Summary:

More research is needed in order to do justice to this pink pub, but it is
not likely to be done.

Well, that's about all I can cope with at the moment.  Off to do some more
field research.  (I wonder what a favourable write-up in Project Galactic
Guide is worth to a publican?)  Below are spaces for future work.  That will
test the ability of Guide readers to update articles!

THE PROVINCIAL
Location:       Cnr Johnson St., & Brunswick St., Fitzroy.
Layout:

Description:

Same semi-renovated look as PA's.  Has lit-up sign reading "Bar & Burgery."
It makes one think.

Drinks:
Food:

Summary: More research needed.

THE EVELYN

Location:       Cnr ? St., & Brunswick St., Fitzroy.
Layout:

Description:

Being renovated.

Drinks:
Food:

Summary: More research needed.  Good Live Music!

THE PUNTERS' CLUB

Location:       Cnr ? St., & Brunswick St., Fitzroy.
Layout:

Description:

Was aptly described by Jim Moll as a "feral pub."  Wear black.

Drinks:
Food:

Summary: More research needed.  Good Live Music!

THE PERSEVERANCE

Location:       Cnr ? St., & Brunswick St., Fitzroy.
Layout:

Description:

Has poetry readings and bands and a turret.  And a cool name.

Drinks:
Food:

Summary: More research needed.

THE STANDARD

Location:       Fitzroy St., Fitzroy.
Layout:

Description:

Dreadful U.S.A.ophile decor, but good food.  Shuts at 11:00pm and plays
country & western music.  It would WANT to be good food.

Drinks:
Food:
Summary: More research needed.

%e
*EOA*


%t Boredom
%n 2R48
%s The Definition of Boredom, as well as Boredom vs. Being doomed.
%a Vincent Joseph Shuta  ([e-mail])
%d 19931114
%x Dealing With The Lack Of Time
%i Emu Impersonations at Funerals
%i Being Doomed
%e
Boredom is not, contrary to popular belief, a result of having
nothing to do.  It's very hard to come up with a situation where
a person's options are so limited that he or she literally can do
nothing.  Attempting to impersonate an emu at a funeral may be
inappropriate, but that doesn't mean that it isn't an option.

Boredom stems from the situation where none of the possible
things that a person can do realistically appeal to the person in
question.  This renders the person inactive, and generally unhappy.
Thus, boredom is the result of having nothing to do that one likes.

Also, it is required that the person be at a relative state of rest,
and under a low level of pressure to be bored.  If the options open
to a person are not appealing to a person because all of them involve
being killed in some unpleasant way, then he or she is not bored.
They are probably in panic, and most likely, doomed.

However, the closeness of definition between being bored and being
doomed (the difference apparently only being the level of risk
involved) should be noted.  This resemblance is what causes most
people to despair when faced with the prospect of being bored; it has
almost all the elements of being doomed.
%e
*EOA*


%t Bushkill Falls
%n 2R49
%s Bushkill Falls in Bushkill, Pennsylvania, USA, Earth
%a Vincent Joseph Shuta  ([e-mail])
%d 19931020
%x Miniature Golf
%x Paddle Boats
%x Earth
%i The Niagara of Pennsylvania
%i Fudge, Great
%i Romance
%e
There are a great many places on this planet which contain more than
their share of natural beauty.  One of these can be found just south of
the Scranton/Wilkes-Barre Area in Pennsylvania.  In the small town of
Bushkill, PA, there is a reasonably large concentration of reasonably
impressive waterfalls, set aside picturesque woods and pathways.  The
overall effect is stunning.  And although the falls are not quite as big
as Niagara Falls, one gets the impression that the overall atmosphere is
quite a bit more romantic.  This balance between size, beauty, and
romance has earned Bushkill Falls (as it is naturally enough known) the
name "The Niagara of Pennsylvania."

The length of the path you take depends on what specific waterfalls you
wish to see, how much time you have, and how much walking you wish to do.
The first of the falls is pretty close to the entrance and is worth the
trip itself.  Or, one can walk for hours along the longer paths and not
be disappointed.

The longer trails are especially nice if you are walking with someone
you would like to get to know (or, someone you already know well, and
just wish to talk with).  The falls are exceptionally relaxing and
conducive to conversation.

Outside the falls are a number of shops where rather nice souvenirs can
be bought.  There is a cafeteria where one may purchase standard cafeteria
items, a small exhibit of stuffed versions of the local wildlife, and an
ice cream/funnel cake/fudge shop of special note.  Although I have yet to
try the funnel cake, the ice cream was quite good and the fudge is of
exceptional quality.  All fudge is made on the premises, and you can watch
it being made at posted times.

In addition, there is also a miniature golf course if your tendencies are
toward miniature golf, and areas for fishing and paddle boating.  The
paddle boats are interesting creations which have the ability of splashing
water on the back of your legs whenever you are travelling forward
(traveling backwards eliminates the splashing).  Thus, it acts as a
cooling effect in summer and as another conversation opener in spring and
fall ("Oh, did you get your pants wet too?")

DIRECTIONS FROM SCRANTON, PA TO BUSHKILL FALLS:

          1) Take Route 81 South to the junction of Route 81 South and
             Route 380 East.
          2) Follow Route 380 East until the junction with Route 80 East.
          3) Follow Route 80 East until it suddenly becomes 209 North around
             Stroudsburg.
          4) Follow the signs on 209 North until you reach Bushkill Falls.

NOTE: For some reason the first 3 or 4 signs on Route 209 North claim that
the falls are 8 miles away.  Obviously this is not the case, because signs
are not that close together.  It was probably either an oversight or a
deliberate move to keep the admission price down.  Either way, don't watch
the odometer that closely, and enjoy your day.

DIRECTIONS FROM SOMEWHERE OTHER THAN SCRANTON, PA TO BUSHKILL FALLS:

          1) Go to Scranton, PA.
          2) Follow the directions from Scranton, PA to Bushkill Falls.
%e
*EOA*


%t Paddle Boats
%n 2R50
%s This is what paddle boats are.
%a Vincent Joseph Shuta  ([e-mail])
%d 19931020
%x Bushkill Falls
%i Hitler, Adolf's Childhood
%e
A paddle boat is a water craft which is driven by a wheel with large, flat
surfaces extending perpendicularly from the center of the wheel.  When the
wheel spins, the flat surfaces, or "paddles," push the boat along.
Although throughout history and in the present day there were and are
large, powered craft which use this principle, most often the term "paddle
boat" refers to the small, human powered version found most often at
resorts.  The boats normally seat two people, each with access to pedals
which are connected to the paddle wheel which powers the craft.  A
lever, centrally placed between the two seats, controls the rudder, a
vertically positioned flat slab which steers the craft depending on what
angle it makes with the centerline; it can increase the water resistance on
one side of the boat or the other, steering the boat in that direction.

A paddle boat tends to have a maximum speed depending on the design of the
paddle wheel.  After a certain point, pedaling faster doesn't help because
the water doesn't have a chance to take the place of the displaced water
and be displaced itself.  It is a water parallel to spinning the wheels of
an automobile.  At best, don't expect more than a couple miles an hour
unless you happen to be in a very strong current.  (Actually, if you are
doing more that a couple miles an hour, you are in serious trouble because
paddle boats just aren't designed for it; you wouldn't want to go down any
rapids in a paddle boat.)

A paddle boat is especially useful in family outings.  Younger children
and teenagers can use them, giving them a sense of control which was
lacking in the back seat on the way down to the resort.  It also can afford
a sense of privacy to older couples and parents who wish a moment of
privacy from the kids -- unless of course the kids decide to follow in
their own paddle boat.  In this situation the older couple or parents can
generally outmaneuver the kids since the kids will in all likelihood not
know about the maximum speed properties of the paddle boat, and paddle like
crazy while the older couple or parents pull away.  However, this should
only be used in cases where the need for privacy is extreme, or when the
kids are trying to ram your paddle boat.  Younger egos are very fragile
and you don't want them growing up with memories of how they lost the big
paddle boat race.  Although there are theories that a similar event strong
affected Adolf Hitler during his childhood, most of these theories need a
great deal more work before the connection with paddle boats can be made.
%e
*EOA*


%t Miniature Golf
%n 2R51
%s What Miniature Golf is.
%a Vincent Joseph Shuta  ([e-mail])
%d 19931020
%x Bushkill Falls
%i The Problems with Golf
%e
Golf is one of the least efficient games ever created.  Huge tracts of
land are required for a game that takes all day long.  It consists of
walking around while intermittently swinging a club at a small white ball,
trying to knock the ball into a small hole.  Several attempts have been
made to improve the efficiency of golf, including golf carts to reduce the
time between swings and better clubs and balls to reduce the number of
swings necessary.

However, at some point it was acknowledged that the critical concept in
golf is that after the golfer had knocked the ball several hundred yards,
he or she is actually near the hole.  Thus the game of Miniature golf was
invented.

Essentially, the same scenario as regular golf is present, but instead of
crossing several hundred yards from the tee to the green (from the staring
point to the actual well-groomed area around the hole), the mini-golfer
starts out near the hole, eliminating a great deal of time, effort,
concentration, and walking.

It also eliminated a great deal of the visual appeal of the sport, since
the impressive, vast tracts of well groomed real estate were eliminated.
To compensate for this, most miniature golf courses have artificial
obstacles installed at each hole -- ramps, loops, bridges, tunnels, wooden
ducks, miniature buildings -- anything that can looks cute and makes the
game more difficult and interesting.

As a result of all this effort, miniature golf has become immensely
popular.  So common is it in fact, that almost nobody makes any big money
from it.  (The "almost" was put in only to account for some bizarre
circumstance such as extremely drunk people betting large amounts of money
on miniature golf.  To my knowledge there is no professional miniature
golf league, and no one is working on it at the moment.)
%e
*EOA*


%t Rice Village, Houston, Texas, USA, Earth
%n 2R52
%s Houston's well-hidden (and only?) oasis of civilization
%a Jeremy Daniel Buhler  ([e-mail])
%d 19931224
%i Rice University, Places Near
%x Earth
%e
Rice Village, nestled between the yuppie-infested wilds of West
University Place and the Rice University campus, is of interest to any
hitchhikers who are searching for higher lifeforms in the Houston
area.  Although it is situated amidst several upscale residential
districts, the Village is almost entirely committed to retail
commerce.  In its present form, therefore, it appears, like most of
Houston, to have been conceived by a particularly demented player of
SimCity.

The Village boasts a commercial density approaching that of the
menacing Houston Galleria, that immense oasis of consumerism from
whose parking lots few return and fewer still return alive.  However,
unlike the Galleria, a vast air-conditioned hive wherein one expects
at any moment to run across Elijah Bailey and R. Daneel, the Village
is a collection of independent strip centers and onetime houses.  It
also encompasses an antiquated apartment complex (in which your humble
correspondent currently resides), a major bank, an equally major
health club (for bankers wishing to exercise), and a brewpub (for
bankers who, having worked out, wish to get drunk and thereby put off
returning to the bank).

Hitchhikers may find the Village mysterious because stores here seem
to occur multiply, never alone.  For instance, there are three Chinese
and three Thai restaurants within three blocks of each other (all are
quite good and cost roughly the same, which is to say too much).
Other clusters include two adjacent convenience stores and at least
two delicatessens.  While the reason for this clumping behavior is not
known, your correspondent suspects that cosmologists will soon be
forced to revise their theories of galactic formation to account for
it.

Unlike most of the rest of Houston, the Village is a fairly safe place
to be a pedestrian.  In fact, it is highly recommended that vehicles
larger than a motor scooter stay out the Village, as parking space is
at best a vestigial feature of the evolving landscape.  Hitchhikers
seeking nourishment on a limited budget may find the Village rather
pricey; however, one of the three local French bakeries or the
outrageously aromatic bagel bakery will provide essential nutrients
and complex carbohydrates for approximately five of the local green
pieces of paper.  Important cultural landmarks include an authentic
American hardware store, a dime store, a pharmacy which does not sell
unbearably cute greeting cards, a used book store, and (probably) the
first Rice Epicurean Market.

Extremely fortunate hitchhikers arriving midway through the planet's
approach to perihelion (known to the locals as "autumn") may witness
the annual Migration of the Aggies, locally known as the Rice/Texas
A&M football game.  During this season, visitors are strongly advised
to avoid anyone sporting maroon, as these beings are almost certain to
be irrational and are probably intoxicated as well.  However,
hitchhikers with roughly humanoid anatomy and sufficient insurance may
rest assured that they are only 1.7E-13 light years away from the
planet's finest hospital facilities, the Texas Medical Center.

The denizens of the Village are generally hoopy froods who are usually
kind to strangers.  However, travelers seeking to make friends would
do well to remember that West University Place is emphatically not
part of Houston, and that its police department, unlike Houston's,
takes local speed limits seriously.  Also, do not dent, scratch, or
spill beverages on the locals' vehicles, since Houstonians in general
take a dim view of such damage and are frequently armed.  With these
few cautions in mind, the adventurous hitchhiker should find the
Village to be a spiritually fulfilling experience.  If not, well, you
can always catch Rocky Horror at the River Oaks Cinema.
%e
*EOA*


%t Magic
%n 2R53
%s Applying Murphy's Law
%a Roel van der Meulen  ([e-mail])
%d 19931214
%i Murphy's Law Applied
%e
If you were to ask someone today "do you believe in magic," chances are
that they'd immediately reply "don't be stupid!!"

Magic is not so much a matter of believing: it exists!  And it's really
quite simple.

Magic is just making use of the first degree approximation of Murphy's
Law.  This method is not infallible, because the full extent of Murphy's
law keeps harassing you.

Example: Take a cola-vending machine.  If you put in your money and nothing
comes out (and you've made all the right moves... insert money, push button
of choice, feel in dispensing slot, push button, push, push, feel, kick,
kick, kick, kick...) you just need someone to come along and state: "it's
out of order."  Promptly the drink of your desire will come out.  Be sure
that you're not the one to state it, because the other one always gets the
goodies, unless of course Murphy's Law comes spoiling all the fun.  In
that case you've probably relied too much on Murphy's Law.  It is in the
nature of Murphy's law to spoil it's own effects.  [1]

The thing now is to act very natural, that is, to positively not believe
that simple words will do the trick.  Now I have to restate what I said
before.

Magic *is* a matter of believing: Magic exists as long as you don't believe
(in) it.

[1] If it doesn't pop out immediately, it could also be that the stress of
    Murphy's Law is now on the last bit: "If something can go wrong, it
    will... eventually."  Thus a lot of waiting can be involved.  Maybe
    even that approximately infinite amount of time it takes for a
    mechanic to show up.
%e
*EOA*


%t Memory
%n 2R54
%s How to avoid using it
%a Roel van der Meulen  ([e-mail])
%d 19931221
%i Games, Memory
%i Cause of everything going wrong in our world today
%e
One of the most horrifying situations you can find yourself in is when your
five year old brother, cousin, or nephew [1] wants you to play 'Memory' with
him.  I don't really have to bring to mind the agony of the smart and very
pleased-with-himself child winning card by card, game after game, smiling
happily at you when you got it all wrong again.

A way of changing this situation is by cheating.  This however is not
advisable.  I will explain.

Cheating is not possible by memorizing all the positions of the cards at the
beginning.  It will just not work.  Reality is that the youngsters are by
far more proficient at this game and at memorizing altogether, and will by
definition beat you at any attempt involving the use of your memory.
Accepting this is one thing; coping with never-ending defeat caused by an
extremely enthusiastic and tooth-changing child (the former is caused by
eating too much candy, thus causing a fair to high glucose level in the
blood) is quite another.  I will go in to that later.

Cheating is possible by distracting the child (A GIANT!  Quick, look out the
window!) and looking underneath the cards.  This will only work a couple of
times, until you are either not quick enough or the kid gets tired [2].  A
lot of effort will be wasted.

Cheating is also possible by marking the cards.  The child is at this time
not smart enough to discover that, but winning this way is only a short term
solution.  The child, confronted with this unexpected loss, will get heavily
traumatized.  This will surface in later years and the cause of the trauma
WILL later be found during some sort of psychoanalysis session.  Lawsuits
will follow and there is a high probability that you will be charged and
convicted for child abuse, causing loss of freedom (prison sentence) and
fortune (millions of dollars compensation).

The other solution, just taking your loss, is also not good.  Getting
traumatized yourself will cost you your sanity, time, and money (the latter
two due to a lifetime of psychoanalysis).

The best solution therefore is to get rid of every Memory game in your
vicinity.  Throw away your own old one (with which you defeated, crushed,
and traumatized adults in your own childhood).  Nick your brother's/
cousin's/nephew's one.  It is even advised to steal and get rid of all the
Memory games in surrounding and further away toy shops.  Costs of vandalism
and theft charges are just a fraction of the costs of the other
alternatives. Doing all this will make the world a better place, not just
for you, but also for the whole of mankind, for now that you've read this
article and realized how responsible the game of Memory is for the mental
state of the people, it is surely clear that the game of Memory is the real
reason for everything going wrong in our world today.

[1] Feel free to insert sister, niece, she, or her where appropriate.

[2] If you manage to extend the positive result of this method up to the age
    a child doesn't believe in fairy tales anymore, the method will be a
    good one, for at this age his memory will be comparable to your's.
    But it takes a lot of time and effort.
%e
*EOA*


%t Santa Claus, Existence of
%n 2R55
%s Scientific Inquiry into The Virginia Postulate
%a Dirk Talasse  (not available via Internet)
*
*  Introduction by Roel van der Meulen ([e-mail])
*
%d 19931225
%x Infinity
%e
Over the years, children have been led to believe that there is a man at
the North Pole called Santa Claus, who, every Christmas, flies to the
inhabited parts of the world on a sleigh pulled by flying reindeer and
climbs down chimneys to drop presents, only to be badly traumatized [1] at
a certain age by the announcement that he doesn't really exist.

We have so far taken that non-existence for granted, because it is true
that his existence is highly improbable.  But on the other hand, in an
infinite universe everything, however improbable (but finitely improbable),
can exist.

Because the existence, or probability of existence, has never been
investigated properly, that is, scientifically, a bit of theoretical
research has been done and here we present the results.

The main problems people have with Santa existing are that 1) Santa has
flying reindeer; 2) Santa has to visit millions of children but 3) hasn't
got a lot of time to do that in and 4) the sleigh is extremely heavily
loaded.  In the following these points will be dealt with and a conclusion
will be drawn.

1) No known species of reindeer can fly.  But there are 300,000 species of
   living organisms yet to be classified, and while most of these are
   insects and germs, this does not completely rule out flying reindeer
   which only Santa has ever seen.

2) There are 2 billion children (persons under 18) in the world.  But since
   Santa doesn't (appear to) handle the Muslim, Hindu, Jewish and Buddhist
   children, that reduces the workload to 15% of the total -- 378 million
   according to Population Reference Bureau.  At an average (census) rate
   of 3.5 children per household, that's 91.8 million homes.  One presumes
   there is at least one good child in each.

3) Santa has 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to the different
   time zones and the rotation of the Earth, assuming he travels east to
   west (which seems logical).  This works out to 822.6 visits per second.
   This is to say that for each Christian household with good children,
   Santa has 1/1000th of a second to park, hop out of the sleigh, jump down
   the chimney, fill the stockings, distribute the remaining presents under
   the tree, eat whatever snacks have been left, get back up the chimney,
   get back into the sleigh, and move on to the next house.

   Assuming that each of these 91.8 million stops are evenly distributed
   around the Earth (which, of course, we know to be false but for the
   purposes of our calculations we will accept), we are now talking about
   0.78 miles per household, a total trip of 75.5 million miles, not
   counting stops to do what most of us must do at least once every 31
   hours, plus feeding and etc.  This means that Santa's sleigh is moving
   at 650 miles per second, 3,000 times the speed of sound.  For purposes
   of comparison, the fastest man-made vehicle on Earth, the Ulysses
   space probe, moves at a poky 27.4 miles per second -- a conventional
   reindeer can run, tops, 15 miles per hour.

4) The payload on the sleigh adds another interesting element.  Assuming
   that each child gets nothing more than a medium-sized LEGO set (2
   pounds), the sleigh is carrying 321,300 tons, not counting Santa, who
   is invariably described as overweight.  On land, conventional reindeer
   can pull no more than 300 pounds.  Even granting that "flying reindeer"
   (see point 1) could pull ten times the normal amount, we cannot do the
   job with eight, or even nine.  We need 214,200 reindeer.  This
   increases the payload -- not even counting the weight of the sleigh --
   to 353,430.  Again, for comparison -- this is four times the weight of
   the Queen Elizabeth.

5) 353,000 tons travelling at 650 miles per second creates enormous air
   resistance -- this will heat the reindeer up in the same fashion as
   spacecrafts re-entering the earth's atmosphere.  The lead pair of deer
   will absorb 14.3 Quintillion Joules of energy.  Per second.  Each.  In
   short, they will burst into flame almost instantaneously, exposing the
   reindeer behind them, and create deafening sonic booms in their wake.
   The entire reindeer team will be vaporized within 4.26 thousandths of
   a second.

   Santa, meanwhile, will be subjected to centrifugal forces 17,500.06
   times greater than gravity.  A 250-pound Santa (which seems ludicrously
   slim) would be pinned to the back of his sleigh by 4,315,015 pounds of
   force.

In conclusion -- If Santa ever did deliver presents on Christmas Eve, he's
dead now.

[1] Is it accurate to say that Santa is the cause of everything going wrong
    in our world today?
%e
*EOA*


%t Euro Disney, Marne-le-Vallee, France, Earth
%n 2R56
%s Here, the dreams come true.  (Not necessarily your dreams.)
%a Florent de Dinechin  ([e-mail])
%d 19940121
%x Earth
%e
     "Je veux aller a Euro Disney
      Pour ouvrir un Sex-Shop..."
           Ludwig von 88, "Euro Disney"

Euro Disney is currently a quite unhoopy place to go for hitchhikers: life
there is awfully expensive, the food is processed, the girls are scarce
above thirteen, and it rains most of the time.  However, it is expected
to become a much more pleasant place in the near future when it's
closed down, so hang on.

HISTORY:

Euro Disney was planned to be the first Disney leisure park of the European
continent.  The whole concept of such resorts is typical of the
United States of America, the wonderful huge country where you can buy
everything from health or freedom to culture.

Here I will expose with complete unbiased objectivity the motivations to
building Euro Disney in Marne-le-Vallee, France.

From the point of view of the Disney Company, it was just time to bring
the enlightenment of the Disney civilization in the very centre of the Old
Continent, and to give its children the chance to experience such a
wonderful entertainment without having to travel to Florida (USA).  (In
the course of this philanthropic achievement, there were unavoidable
possibilities of unwanted profits, which the company would keep as low as
possible.)

A careful market study showed that the best would-be guests to Euro Disney
would be the Englishmen, the Germans and the Italians.  Unfortunately,
when you try to build something as close as possible to England, Germany,
and Italy, it usually falls in France.  The Frenchmen themselves did not
seem to have enough cultural maturity to fully understand the educational
benefits of a Disney entertainment centre to send their children to,
but from the point of view of the French government, Euro Disney was an
unexpected chance to spectacularly create hundreds of jobs in a go, which
could not be neglected in a period of economic recession and unemployment,
and most of all, of approaching elections.

There were long talks between the Disney Company and the countries in which
Euro Disney could be implanted, represented by lobbies of investment
companies.  In the end, the conditions offered by the French government
made the choice obvious: they offered financial support, a good part
of the infrastructure, a new motorway, and a new railway between the chosen
place and Paris (capital of the country), and even a new high-speed
train link to the rest of Europe, all of which would be paid by the french
taxpayers.  It made it easy to find people willing to invest into this
adventure: the idea was to buy hundreds of hectares of agricultural land
(cheap) and to let the Government turn it into expensive, ideally
placed office earthground.

It was even suggested in some quacky papers that the investors hoped the
leisure park to be a failure, so that they could grab the land again and
build offices on it.  Anyway, it was a hoopy move: if I had had a few
millions to save then, I would have given them for Euro Disney, too.
Unfortunately, I only had half a dozen ecus and a towel by the time...

Then the Euro Disney resort was built, and it was a time of great
achievements, great sacrifices, and great advertising.

And Euro Disney created jobs, and it was also a time of great advertising
and satisfaction for the government.  Sadly, it was too late: on the
following year, their electoral disaster was so terrible that nobody
today even remembers their names, and the victory of the opposite party
was so total that democracy itself disappeared from France for a few years.
Besides, a few leftist primarily anti-American newspapers complained that
the jobs created didn't follow the french work legislation, but who cared:
by the time, a job was a job, even if you didn't have the right to wear a
beard or too brown a skin.

Then Euro Disney opened its magical doors in April 1992, and it was a time
of even greater advertising.

Then Euro Disney did not make money.

There were several explanations, none of them fully satisfactory.  Some of
the guests (never call them customers) complained about the weather,
saying that such enterprises work better in sunny countries like, say,
Florida (USA).  Some other complained about the incredibly high price of
the attractions and neighbouring facilities (hotels or restaurants).
People at Euro Disney first complained that no French people visited them:
Germans, and Englishmen would come from their remote countries, but even
the Parisians were reluctant to move that far to have fun, preferring
just get downstairs to the pub, to the library, to the restaurant, or to
the new brunette next door, depending on the mood.

Then the management complained that the few people visiting Euro Disney
didn't buy all the useless Mickey-goodies, as did the Americans.  Maybe
the advertising campaign was too shy?

Anyway, after one year, it was obvious that Disney Resort was forgetting
to make any profit.  The Disney Company was unwilling to invest more and
began suppressing jobs while threatening the new French Government to close
for good if they did not help them more.  But the new French Government had
had time to realize that enough of their money had been wasted in this void,
and besides they didn't care for a few jobs: they were liberals, too.

And here we are.  The highest probability now is that the resort will be
closed down, which most French will consider as a good thing, although
most of the loans were guaranteed by the government on the taxpayers'
money.  Should this prediction prove false, I will of course have this
article accordingly modified in the best apocrypha way.

But now, the real thing:

BEFORE GETTING THERE:

Think twice!  You will have to behave well far longer than normal
hitchhikers can: everything there is clean, enlightened, and
cardboard-smiling.  The exclusive sight of so many fake Mickeys(TM),
Donalds(TM) and Plutos(TM) for a whole day without getting mad and
shooting in the bunch needs a heavy training or a complete lobotomy.
The exclusive company of Germans-in-Short-Pants(TM), TV-addicted children,
and diverse rich brainwashed people might be dangerous for your own brain.
You will be brainwashed yourself, you might never be the same again.
Ok, you've been warned.

Having said that, it should be something really fun if you can afford it.
In this respect, take your food with you!  And more important, take your
booze with you!  And hide it well.

WHEN TO GET THERE:

If you really want to go to alive Euro Disney, just wait a little more:
the prices should drop more and more until the resort is finally closed
down.  Meanwhile, stay in Paris.  In general, by the way, stay in Paris:
there is much more there to see, taste, feel, and experiment.

After it's been closed down, it's another thing: the place is expected
to rapidly become a huge squat for all the homeless and dropouts of
Paris; it will be dirty and dangerous, one will be able to find there
all the possible prohibited substances and the police won't dare to enter
the Resort anymore.  It will be much more fun, then.  But you need to wait
a year or two.

HOW TO GET THERE:

First, get to Paris.  Then, just follow the omnipresent advertizing.
I'm afraid hitchhiking to Euro Disney will take quite a while, as the people
working there have a strong feeling of belonging to an elite and therefore
won't take hitchhikers, and the people going there to visit usually have
their cars full of wives and children.  Anyway, you will have to be clean
and correct, or they won't let you in.

We won't suggest, of course, that you pay to enter Euro Disney.  You will
easily bribe any of the staff members, they are poorly paid enough.  Or you
can try to disguise into Mickey(TM), it seems the easiest way: just cut
two big circles in black cardboards for the ears, have a synthetic smile
and take a silly but enjoyed voice, and it should do.

WHAT THERE IS TO SEE:

Well, I don't know, I haven't been there either, you know, never had the
guts nor the money.  And very few of my close friends have been there
either, I'm not that kind of guy.  And those who have, God knows why, are
kind of reluctant to talk about it.

And anyway, if we tell you everything, it won't be magical anymore.
%e
*EOA*


%t McLintock, Alexander Lachlan
%n 2R57
%s One of the Field Researchers
%a Alexander Lachlan McLintock  ([e-mail])
%d 19940131
%i Authors, Project Galactic Guide
%i Alexander Lachlan McLintock
%e
Born in 1971, the eldest son of an English-Cypriot and an English-Scot,
I spent the first ten years of my life in Barnet, North London, England,
UK.  I spent the next six in Limassol, Cyprus, followed by various periods
in Hertfordshire and London for A'Levels, Imperial College, and finally
work.  I have been:

          [e-mail]
          [e-mail]
          [e-mail]
          [e-mail]

and now I am:

          [e-mail]

I am looking for a good name for my home email account which I shall get
sometime this year when time allows.  My favourite so far is alexmc@yeti
because of my beard.

I have a very high opinion of myself so unless people tell me otherwise
I shall think that my PGG articles are deserving of the Booker Prize.
Please do criticize them.  Any constructive comments are welcome, e.g.
"I don't understand _x_" or "_y_ is boring."  I also have a tendency to
talk drivel and write in totally convoluted English.

All articles written by me are Copyright Alex McLintock.  They may be
copied and distributed for any edition of the Project Galactic Guide.
They may not be separated from the Guide or used for any purpose other
than as a part of the Project Galactic Guide.  (Ask first!)

I own two Acorn Archimedes computers and will happily send a copy of the
Archie Guide to anyone who asks.  (And the Jargon file too if you send
a HD disk and a SSAE).

I would love to hear suggestions on things in England that people might
want to know about.

Enjoy!
%e
*EOA*


%t Indexing Books
%n 2R58
%s Alphabetical Order
%a Alexander Lachlan McLintock  ([e-mail])
%d 19940204
%x Imperial College Science Fiction Society
%e
Indexing is a subject close to the hearts of many science fiction fans.
A knowledge of how to catalogue books will aid you in obtaining temporary
work in any English Speaking Library.  Unfortunately, I cannot impart that
knowledge to you.

In my college days I had the dubious task of stock-taking the ICSF library.
This involved the checking of over 2,000 books against a paper list, seeing
which ones had been stolen since the year before.  Had those books been
un-indexed we would have lost books to nimble thieves all the time!

There is a second-hand book seller in London who orders every book he gets.
He reads them in strict order of purchase.

A recent exercise involved sorting around one hundred books into
alphabetical order.  Certain conventions allow easy decisions.  "Banks"
goes before "Clarke," and "Pohl" goes before "Pratchett."  However, some
are less than certain.  Does "Orson Scott Card" go under "S" or "C"? Does
"Temps" - edited by Neil Gaiman and Alex Stewart go under "G," or "S," or
is a separate section for anthologies required?  Staying with Neil Gaiman,
does his "Official Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Companion" go under "G"
or next to all the books by "Adams"?  (Or perhaps it goes with all the
Sandman comics in a box on the floor).  Do you place all volumes in the
Hitchhiker Trilogy in alphabetical order of title, or chronological order
of publication?  (You need to be topologically confused to try placing
them in chronological order of the events in the story...)  Do you place
John Norman's "Gor" books between "M" and "O" or in "B" (for "Bin")?

You may think that this is not a subject worthy of many brain cells, but
consider this:  Those hundred books are just the _read_ collection.
There is another nine-foot shelf of unread paperbacks, a shelf full of
videos including every Star Trek episode in order of first broadcast, two
smaller shelves of large non-fiction, a row of boxes with comics, and a
final shelf with glasses.  Think of the state we would be in if they were
all mixed up, un-indexed!
%e
*EOA*


%t Canada, Earth
%n 2R59
%s Not All Canadians Are Frigid
%a Kurt Fitzner  ([e-mail])
%d 19940118
%x Earth
%e
To Canadians, Canada is "just zis country, you know."  To visitors,
it is the coldest country on the planet (with an average year-round
temperature of -5).  While Canadians take distinct pleasure in
travelling to a city, say like Chicago, and watching the entire
population get traumatized and see all of the city's infrastructure
grind to a halt when the temperature dips below -10 (centigrade) and
they get 2 inches of snow, it is interesting to note that these same
people, say from Chicago, take a distinct pleasure in the Canadians
taking a distinct pleasure in watching them suffer.  It seems to go
something like this:

          Canadian:  (observing snow, and -10 degree temperatures)
                     "<Chuckle>....<snicker>.....<gufaw>...."
          Chicagoan: (scratches head)
          Canadian:  "Look at that bus...<snicker>...get a load of the
                     huge coat that lady is wearing...."
          Chicagoan: (wonders what is so funny)
          Canadian:  (hears on radio that school is cancelled - begins
                     loud obnoxious laughing)
          Chicagoan: (realizing what the Canadian finds so funny)
                     "I wonder what kind of arctic deep-freeze hole this
                     guy must be from to be enjoying this.  Poor guy."

At this point, the person, say from Chicago, chuckles softly and walks
away.  The interesting thing is, that while it actually is the coldest
country on the planet, it is not, in fact, an arctic deep-freeze hole.
It is actually one of the most naturally beautiful, and diverse,
countries in the world, with climates ranging from arctic to semi-
desert, and arid to semi-tropical.

For the hitchhiker interested in natural beauty, there are many places to
see all over the country including:

          1) The Buchard Gardens in British Columbia for flower and
             garden lovers.  The best cultivated garden in the country.
          2) Waterton National Park in southern Alberta for mountain
             lakes, forests, and several beautiful small waterfalls.
          3) Lake Laronge in northern Saskatchewan sports some of the
             best lake fishing in the country, along with some very nice
             secluded island cabins.
          4) The Great (albeit now dirty) Lakes offer virtually limitless
             boating.

For those that enjoy urban travel and riotous parties, try the pubs and
clubs of Toronto.  Or, if you like French women, try Montreal or Quebec
City.  The women there have all the accent, but none of the armpit hair,
of Paris women.

And for those who like rustic, back-home, down-to-planet people and
communities, there are the east-coast provinces (Nova Scotia, New
Brunswick, Newfoundland, and Prince Edward Island).  In these provinces
the hitchhiker can enjoy some of Canada's oldest and friendliest
communities.  There the discerning hitchhiker will find some of the
richest and most mature culture in the nation (not to mentions pubs
that one would swear were teleported straight from the U.K.).

All in all, a very surprisingly diverse country.  Just don't visit in
January.
%e
*EOA*


%t Lecture Games
%n 2R60
%s Games to Play, on Paper, During a Lecture
%a Christopher Thomas  ([e-mail])
%d 19940101
%i How To Wake Yourself Up During A Boring Lecture
%e
Background
----------
There are many occasions, during a lecture, when the brain ceases to
accept new information, and refuses to cooperate with your better
judgment, e.g.:

          Student: "Please listen to this lecture."
            Brain: "No."
                   "Please, it's very important."
                   "NO."
                   "Go on, I'll get a good job and earn lots of money...."
                   "Hmmm, tempting."
                   "...then I'll be able to pay someone else to do
                    everything."
                   "Aw, Okay then..."

Unfortunately, if you are not schizophrenic, and therefore, _cannot_
have a conversation with your sub-conscious, (see previous example) you
will have to find alternative means to wake your brain up, and give it
a good kick up the cerebral cortex.

There have been many attempts to formulate new ways of stimulating one's
mind in a boring lecture, some less obvious ones being:

          1)  Listen to a personal stereo (works well, but blocks out
              lecturer).
          2)  Slapping yourself round the face (better than 1).
          3)  Slapping yourself round the face with a wet haddock (better
              than 2).
          4)  Practice Yoga (can annoy others if your humming is too loud).
          5)  Attempting to insert a writing implement into a facial
              orifice (lasting effectiveness and/or scars).
          6)  Sticking your head in a bucket of ice water (if you happen
              to have one in your pocket).
          7)  Making love (not recommended in a packed lecture theater).
          8)  Sky diving (impractical, unless lecture theater has a high
              ceiling).

Of course the best solution by far is:

          9)  Play a game.

There are many games one can play in a lecture.  Games like "I Spy,"
"Charades," "Basketball," or "Boxing" are usually quite noisy, and can
distract the toffee-nosed note-scribbling scum-bag party-poopers who do
not wish to play or who are in no need of an increase in brain activity.

A less obtrusive, and altogether quieter form is required.

Observation showed that most students attending lectures will have at
least one sheet of paper and a pen.  The application of the one on the
other is, usually, quite quiet, which then indicated to me that using
them was the best course of action.

This led me to compile a list of games which can be played with a pen
and paper, between two people (or more in some cases).  When you are
playing these games, try to play without attracting the attention of the
lecturer, or the type of student who will probably complain loudly.
There is nothing more embarrassing than the lecturer wandering up,
wondering what you are doing not taking notes.  They are likely to rant
and rave for a bit, pull out a bit more hair, complain that "students in
my day didn't do this," then give you and your colleagues lots of work to
be handed in the day after tomorrow.

Disclaimer - Don't blame me if you fail your course!

Some of these games are quite well known, easy, self evident, and will
not be fully explained.  If you don't understand their rules, tough luck.
You should not be so thick.

Required Items:

          Pen/Pencil
          Paper/Parchment
          An ounce of intelligence -- erm, two ounces of intelligence

You might need the help of an adult, and here are some I prepared earlier
(Har har! I couldn't resist that! Sorry to all non-"Blue Peter" watchers).

NOTE: It is best to view this article using a non-proportionally spaced
      font, since all of the diagrams need a fixed width font to be seen
      properly.


Noughts and Crosses (a.k.a. Tic-Tac-Toe)
-------------------------------------
Played on a three by three grid, both players take it in turn to place
their mark (a nought or a cross) in an attempt to get three in a row.

Setup:

Draw a three by three grid (have you _never_ played this?).

Notes:

Gets boring very quickly (go see the end of the film War Games for an
example).


Alphabetic Variation of Noughts and Crosses
-------------------------------------------
Each player takes a turn to place a letter of the alphabet in the three
by three grid, in an attempt to make a three letter word.

Setup:

I cannot believe you are actually reading how to set this up!

Notes:

Go first, in the center square, then you will have the first chance to win.
'Q' is a wonderful letter to use if you do not want to give your opponent
a chance.

UNIX users:

It is possible to use the 'grep' utility program thing to do a search for
all three letter words in the on-line dictionary (assuming you _have_ an
on-line dictionary, that is).  The command line is:

          look x | grep -e '^...$'

Where x is a letter of the alphabet and '^...$' means "search for a word
that starts and ends with three letters."


Connect Four
------------
Played on a seven by six grid, each player attempts to drop their counters
(a nought or a cross) to form a row of four (or more).

Setup:

Draw eight vertical lines, each six lines deep, to create seven columns.

| | | | | | | |   Counters are 'dropped' down each column,
| | | | | | | |   and cannot go flying (see Y), since there is nothing
| |O|X| |X| | |   beneath to support it.
| |O|O|X|O| | |
|O|X|O|O|X| |Y| < this is a no no
|X|O|X|O|X| | |
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                  Key:
| | | | | | | |   + = X's possible winning moves
|c|+| | | | | |
|b|O|X| |X| | |   All O has to do, is to go in 'a' and force
|a|O|O|X|O| | |   X into going into 'b' and O then wins at 'c'
|O|X|O|O|X| | |
|X|O|X|O|X|+| |   Or alternatively, wait for X to go in 'a' then
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~    O wins at 'b'

Notes:

Try to go for three in a row, with no counter either side (see both +'s),
or try to get two rows of three close together so that either row can be
used to win (see O's in example).


Squares/Boxes
-------------
Players take turns to draw a horizontal or vertical line from one adjacent
dot to another in an attempt to complete a square.  When a square is drawn,
the player writes their initial inside it to 'capture' it, and _must_ then
take another go.

The player that makes the most captures, wins the game.

Setup:

Draw a grid of dots, about fifteen by fifteen.

(For clarity, a dot is represented here as a +)

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
|   |   |   |
+ + + + + + + +-+-+-+-+ +-+
|     | |   | |A|A|A|A|   |
+ +-+-+ +-+ + +-+-+-+-+-+ +
| |   |     |
+ + + + +-+-+3+-+-+-+-+-+-+
|   | | | 1 2 |B|B|B|B|       The next player could draw lines 1, 2 and 3
+-+-+ + +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+   to get three squares.
    |   |     |   |     |
+ + +-+-+ +-+ + + + + + + +
          |   |   |   | | |
+ + + + + + + +-+-+-+-+ + +
        |   |         |   |
+ + + +-+-+-+-+ +-+ + + +-+
  |   |       |   |   |   |
+ +-+-+ +-+-+ + + +-+-+-+ +

Notes:

Long 'corridors' of squares can be fun - if you manage to capture them
yourself.  You can force your opponent to give you the next corridor of
squares by sacrificing only two squares (see below).  Do this by first
ensuring that there are no places where a line can be drawn, without
letting your opponent capture a square.  Try to then capture the longest
corridor on the board.  When you have nearly completed that corridor,
leave the last two squares for your opponent to capture:

capture the longest    leave last two            pray opponent is dumb..
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+    +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+       +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
|A|A|A|A|A|A|A|        |A|A|A|A|A|A|A|   | <+    |A|A|A|A|A|A|A|B|B|
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+    +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+  |    +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
leave last two         draw next bar here---+    ..enough to go here

This will then force your opponent to draw a line, which should start off
the next corridor for you.  This procedure is difficult to describe in
words, although if you play the game a few times, you can easily get the
hang of it.


Tetris
------
Yes! Now you can experience the thrills of your favorite block game!  In
this paper version, players take it in turns to draw one of a sequence of
Tetris blocks in an attempt to complete a row.

Setup:

Draw a grid about ten by twenty-five, (or larger if you prefer).  Each
new game, draw the seven Tetris blocks down next to the grid, in a random
order.

Player 1 takes the first block in the sequence, and player 2 takes the
next, and so on.  Any number of people can play, but do not forget, your
hawk-eyed lecturer may spot you passing the paper around!

The blocks may be rotated, but not flipped.

A player may _not_ leave a gap, except when it cannot be avoided; if so,
the player may place the block anywhere (see below).  The winner is the
person with the greatest number of lines, when no more blocks may be placed
in the grid.

(For clarity, the grid's squares are represented by dots)

..........  ####         Moves in this example:
..........       #       1.Player 1 - ####    6.Player 3 -    #
..........  ##  ###                                           #
..........   ##          2.Player 2 -  #                     ##
..........      #                     ##
........5.   ## ###                   #       7.Player 1 -   ##
......6558  ##                                            #
.77.2.6358               3.Player 3 - #                       #
4472266338  ##  ###                   ##
4472111138  ##  #                      #      8.Player 2 -    #
                                                              #
^^^^^^^^^^^^             4.Player 1 - ##                      #
example game                          ##                      #

                         5.Player 2 -  #      Player 2 gets two lines
                                      ##                          etc..
                                       #

Notes:

If you are unable to place a block without leaving any gaps, you may
therefore place it anywhere.  Try to stop the next player's potential win,
i.e. if you had to place the Square block:

..........  The Square block cannot be placed anywhere without leaving a
..........  gap, so placed here (*), the next person to have the long bar,
**#.#....#  will not get three lines.
**###.#.##
.#########  Always try to think ahead for a few blocks, to try to position
.#########  your blocks in such a way as to obstruct, or force your
.#########  opponents to make their moves.
##########
##########  Do not forget! You may block your own lines!
fig 1

.**.......  ..........  Do not be silly and put it here (* fig 2), because
.**.......  ......##..  it would still leave lots of gaps.  Blocks like +
..#.#....#  ..#.#.##..  _cannot_ slide down the side, but if a situation
++###.#.##  ..###.#.*.  as in fig 3 occurs, it can, since the block could
+#########  .####.#**.  fit through the gap and slide into place (* fig 3),
+#########  .#######*#  as in normal Tetris.
.#########  .#########
##########  ##########  However it is your choice, if you want to make
##########  ##########  the game difficult, go right ahead.
fig 2       fig 3


Oxo
---
Played on a grid, players take it in turns to write either a cross or a
nought in an attempt to make the word "OXO"

Setup:

Draw a grid about ten by ten.  Start by writing in a few O's and X's.
When you create an OXO, draw a line through the three squares; this:
          A)  makes it clearer to see which OXOs have been taken, and
          B)  gives greater satisfaction if you are winning!!

(Lines not shown in example below)

..........     ..........     ..........     ..........     ..........
..........     ..........     ..........     ..........     ..........
...O......     ...O......     ...OO.....     ...OO.....     ...OO.....
...O.O....     ...OXO....     ...OXO....     ...OXO....     ...OXO....
....O.....     ....O.....     ....O.....     ....OO....     ..O.OO....
..........     ..........     ..........     ..........     ..........
..........     ..........     ..........     ..........     ..........
..........     ..........     ..........     ..........     ..........
fig 1          fig 2          fig 3          fig 4          fig 5
start game     1st win        2nd win        3rd win        where next?

Notes:

Usually, one OXO will create another, as in the above example, can you see
where the next OXO will be created in fig 5?  (Yup!  There's two.)  Keep an
eye open for getting two or more OXO's with one move, and of course not
creating them for your opponent to take advantage of.  When you are near to
filling the grid, look out for places to write two noughts with a gap of
two spaces between them, i.e.:

##O..O####
##########   Whoever goes in the gaps will give away a point.
#########O   Putting either an X or an O in a gap will let the other player
#####O###.   win a line, and can be the turning point in a game.
####.####.   (see for yourself)
###.#####O
##O#######   -WARNING-
##########   This usually backfires on me (boo hoo, sympathy needed).


Lecture Bingo
-------------
A game for as many who want to play, er, make that, pay attention, to the
lecturer to see what he/she does/says.

Setup:

Draw a grid, about three by four (or more if you prefer), large enough for
you to write a few words in each. i.e.:

Looks at clock          Says "OK"               Blows nose

Comments about weather  Quotes his book         Says "...if and only if..."

Coughs                  Gets angry at us        Says "Quiet"

etc.                    etc.                    etc.

As the lecture progresses, cross off each square according to the
lecturer's actions.  You can play for horizontal or vertical rows, corners,
a full house, a certain number of squares, or whatever winning combinations
you can think of.

Notes:

Write down anything your lecturer is likely to do, to increase your chances
of winning.  This can be quite easy, especially if your lecturer is the
predictable type of person who says "OK" at the end of every sentence, or
who constantly raises and lowers the projection screen, or who wears funny
shoes, or who has a funny walk, or who constantly refers to the book they
have written.

Any cases of ambiguity are disallowed; you should have been more specific.


Bok (magazine version)
----------------------
Sounding like "clock," it is not strictly a game, it's a practical joke.
Well, more a way for two people to get a kick out of annoying others, who
do not know what you are doing.  I think I got this from a copy of Zero
magazine, I'm not sure, so this is from memory:

Setup:

Grab a few pens, pencils, erasers, disks, coins, sweets, pencil sharpeners,
etc, and lay them out on the desk.  Move them around randomly, jump over
one piece with another, rotate them, turn them over, remove them, and after
a move, occasionally say "Bok."  After about ten moves each, one player
concedes, or declares a win.

Notes:

This 'game' drives people crazy, especially when you refuse to explain the
rules to them.  Do not tell them that there are none.  Doing so will spoil
their illusion, and your fun.  It's the old, old story of "I _must_ be
better than you because I know how to play this game and you don't so there
thickie!"

Do not be surprised if onlookers offer advice, discuss tactics or tell you
to move a piece.  Perhaps say "I can't move this here because that piece
is there, I can only move here or here, even then I get Bokked."  Your
opponent should pick up on this, and then Bok you with their next move.

Or, simply move it where they requested, your opponent moves, and knows
when to say "Bok."  Look round and say "I thought that would be a bad move"
or some other witty retort.  It really is a 'team' joke.

This game can be also be played in restaurants, using, knives, forks,
spoons, salt and pepper shakers, plates, etc.

Be sure to pretend you are thinking, remember, this _is_ supposed to be a
strategy game!  (Sneaky snigger, chuckle, giggle, guffaw!)


Bok (paper version)
-------------------
Simply write anything down on paper:

          - circles
          - stars
          - squares
          - crosses
          - letters

and do the same sorts of things:

          - rub them out and draw them somewhere else
          - draw arrows from one to another
          - say "Bok" every now and then

Even keep some sort of ridiculous scoring system:

          - I win a shrubbery!
          - You forfeit a dozen plips.
          - I earn a wibble.
          - You lose a banana.

In short, make your own things up.  If some people persist to pester you,
tell them to go figure, and find something less boring to do instead.


Conclusion
----------
No, not a game, but an end to this article.  Sounds like a good name for a
strategy board game doesn't it?  No? Oh well, please yourself.
%e
*EOA*


%t Finland, Earth
%n 2R61
%s Land of Something Strange and Something Cool
%a Petri Mikael Honkamaa  ([e-mail])
* Article From: Petri Honkamaa <[e-mail]>
%d 19940202
%x Earth
%x Sweden, Earth
%i Scandinavia
%i Sauna
%e
First thing you might want to know about Finland is it's location.  It's
not a town somewhere in Russia and it certainly isn't another name for
Poland.  In fact, Finland is a land in northern Europe right between
Sweden and Russia.  Finland is also a part of Scandinavia although many
foreigners might say it isn't (what the heck do they know about Finland
anyway).

People who live in this northern country are called Finns.  Finns are very
silent and dull people unless they are drunk (which is mostly the case).
Unlike people in most of the other countries in Europe, Finns have a very
special way of drinking.  Finns drink too fast and usually also too much
(basically until they pass out), although nowadays there has been some evil
gossips that claim that the Finnish way of drinking has been changing
towards a more European and more civilized way.  Most Finns think that
this is bad and don't want to believe it to be true.  Fortunately it's
probably just some Finnish government's trick to make Finns drink a little
less.

Finland's two official languages are Finnish and Swedish.  Most people in
Finland speak Finnish and the few who don't we don't count to be Finnish.
All Finns have to study Swedish in school.  This has traumatized
generations of Finnish people.  So if you want to speak Swedish to a Finn
think twice and if you are tired of your life just go ahead.

The Finnish language has also been claimed to be a very hard language to
learn.  I personally don't think this to be true because I've met several
little children that speak it quite well.  But another thing about Finnish
that _is_ true is that it has absolutely nothing to do with English or
Swedish or any other known language on this side of the universe.

Most Finns are sport maniacs.  They can sit in front of a TV-set for hours
watching any kind of sports which have finns in it.  Of course a Finnish
sport enthusiast has a bottle of beer in his hand and a lot of loud advice
to give.

And nothing is more bitter to a Finn than to lose to some 'weaker'
sport-country like USA or Russia (or in fact to any other known country...
especially Sweden).  When this terrible loss happens (it isn't as rare an
occasion as one might think) you can hear hearth aching crying and cursing
just about in every Finnish house from South to North.  And all just
because of these soft and weak youngsters of TV-generation.  These damn
modern athletics who don't even drink like the real Finns used to.  No
wonder they aren't any good in sports...

If you meet some older Finnish people they will probably talk to you about
the war between Finland and Russia (1941-44 or something like that).  And
this is their right because it's their achievement that Finland is
independent and not just another state of Russia.  Although it seems when
you listen to these old war stories that the Russia was lucky that it isn't
just another state of Finland.

One thing that no finn can live without is Finnish sauna.  Almost every
building in Finland has at least one sauna.  For those of you who haven't
the slightest idea what the heck a sauna is, I can tell that it is a quite
warm place (from 60 to over 100 degrees of celsius) where Finns go to
relax every now and then.

The ritual goes like this:  First you get rid of all your clothes.  Then
you sit in sauna completely naked, hit yourself with a birch bath whisk
(which is called 'vasta'), and every now and then throw a little water into
a thing called 'kiuas' (which is basically a pile of hot stones).  When you
are feeling hot you go outside and jump into an icy lake (or just into
something cold that is available, like snow or neighbor's pool).  And when
you are feeling cold you go back into the sauna and start all over again.
If you have a little time to drink a couple of beers somewhere between the
icy lake and hot sauna, the evening will be perfect.

If you are for some strange reason going to visit Finland (which is
something that I think everybody should do) you must be aware that
probably some crazy Finn will make you drink too much booze after making
you half dead from running between sauna and icy lake.

But please go ahead.  5 million Finns can't be wrong...
%e
*EOA*


*
* End of file:  REAL03.NEW
*