Floppyshop 2/Floppyshop - 2.zip/Floppyshop - 2.iso/diskmags/3565-4.665/dmg-3609/news.txt/rainbox2.asc

Text File | 1985-11-19 | 16KB | 290 lines

                         ∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°
                         ∙  JUST A BOX OF RAIN  ∙
                         ∙                      ∙
                         ∙    by John Weller    ∙
                         ∙                      ∙
                         ∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°




     Spring  at  last - the time for fresh thoughts  and  new  directions.
But don't mind me,  I'll just stay with the old obsessions and worry  them
some more...



                       A HARD DRIVE'S A GONNA FALL
                       °∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°

     That  quiet whirring that you hear is my new hard drive  purring  its
little heart out.  Regular readers of this column (or irregular readers, I
don't  care  -  I'm  not  proud) will  remember  that   Dave_H  (whom  God
preserve)  had  promised me an 84 Meg unit salvaged from a derelict  PC  -
all that I needed was an 'ICD The Link' interface to revive it.

     That  was back in November and,  two-and-a-half  months  later,  it's
finally up and running.   But why the delay?   The Christmas consumer-fest
emptied my pockets of the little that British Rail had put into them;  the
Building  Society laughed when I asked for an overdraft;  the animals  ate
what  was left.   There was nothing for it but to work  some  overtime....
desperate needs lead to desperate solutions.

     Several Sundays later,  I had the necessaries.   The only problem was
that no one had 'The Link' in stock...   "Try next Wednesday,  or in  four
weeks' time."  "We're waiting for some from the States - two weeks' time."
It  seemed that I was looking for the Missing Link.   To cut a  very  long
story  very  short,  I finally found one at Power  Computing  for  £69.95.
Atari  Workshop  had offered me one along the way for  £99.95.   I'd  been
tempted,  I admit it,  but at £30 over the regular price - perhaps he  was
holding the price tag upside down?

     The great day finally dawned.   The Link plugged neatly into the back
of the drive and the ST's DMA socket.   Power on....  The sound of a small
jet engine filled the room.   Its light when on,  my lights went on; we're
very happy together.



                 MAILBOX MILLIONS (AND OTHER STRANGENESS)
                 °∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙

     Chain-letters  are  back in fashion.   No matter how many  times  you
prove  that if one person makes money from them then others will  have  to
lose,  there's  always  some certifiable optimist who thinks that  he's  a
winner.

     ST News and the 'Atari Users' Federation' are two such  cases.   Both
of them have chain-letters running,  and both of them expect huge returns.
ST  News  wants  your money,  but I'm not what the  'AUF'  are  after.   I
received  a letter in July '92 asking me to send a disc of PD to  each  of
the  persons on their list.

     It sounds harmless enough,  but has anyone else ever come across  the
'AUF'?   Atari  hadn't,  and  neither  had  any  of  the  PD  libraries  I
contacted.   Their address was a PO Box in Harlow, Essex, so the next step
was to try the post office.   They checked,  and drew a blank as well.  So
who are the 'AUF',  and what were they after?   I'd hazard a guess that it
was a nice little trick thought up by a 'swapping' group to bring in  some
free discs.  Can anyone prove me wrong?

     I don't know why,  but I attract crazies like a light attracts moths.
All  I  have  to  do is sit in a park or  relax  on  a  train,  and  every
eccentric  for miles around will come and tell his story.   So  it  didn't
come  as a great surprise when I received a chain-letter dedicated  to  St
Jude,  "the  patron Saint of lost causes".   It told me something I  knew,
that "With love all things are possible",  but I also learnt  that,  "Dala
Fairchild received the letter and,  not believing, he threw it away.  Nine
days  later he died."  St Jude,  patron Saint of lost causes,  protect  me
from the fools of this world.

     A few days later I received another irresistable offer - on four  11"
x  15"  printed pages,  © Neo-Tech Universe,  850 South  Boulder  Highway,
Henderson, NV 89015, USA:

   "Dear  Citizen  of Earth,  ZONPOWER brings you an endless  River  of
   Wealth,  a Shining New Prosperity for You.   ZONPOWER.   You can  be
   among the first to capture ZONPOWER.   During this week,  for a  low
   test-pilot charge,  you can obtain the complete,  785 page, Zonpower
   manuscript  along  with a one-way ticket to wealth  and  prosperity.
   After  this  test-pilot phase,  the charges for  the  same  Zonpower
   manuscript,  instructions  and  journey will rise  above  a  hundred
   dollars,   then  above  a  thousand  dollars,   and  finally   above
   $50,000...and that will still be cheap."

   "Scientific-Verification Notes:"  (an extract)
   ¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
   "Who  would be the easy winner in any Zon versus God  contest?   All
   conscious  beings  have the capacity within the laws of  nature  and
   physics to routinely outdo the greatest imaginable feat of God - the
   creation of our universe.  Indeed, the creation of universes by big-
   bang inflations of gravity is elementary,  boring child's play  long
   ago left behind by most Zons."

   "P.S.,  Do not miss the opportunity to join me by Friday.  With your
   Zonpower manual, you can ride the Seven Waves to unimaginable riches
   and happiness."

     Not many people know that.



                    WHAT DO WE WANT?  POLECAT NATION!
                    °∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°°∙°∙°∙

     Liz  and  I are committed mustelophiles -  it's  contagious,  and  it
means 'lover of the mustelid,  or weasel,  family'.   When I first met Liz
she  had  two ferrets and a red-tailed hawk.   Two years  later,  we  have
sixteen ferrets,  a hawk,  an oriental long-tailed lizard,  and four long-
tailed  field mice.   But it's the ferrets that take up most of  my  time.
Let me explain....

     Have  you  ever  noticed  that  you  are  attracted,   conciously  or
unconciously  to  animals that have a similar outlook to  your  own?   The
fluffy  blond leading a poodle is almost a cliché,  as is the  craggy  man
with  a  fox terrier,  but it seems that there's more to  this  than  just
appearance.   We choose to keep animals that have a similar nature to  our
own.   We  say that someone is a 'cat person' or a 'dog person',  so  it's
something that we're semi-conscious of.

     I'm obsessed with  mustelids:  weasels,  stoats,  polecats,  ferrets,
pine  martens and mink.   What we have in common is that  we're  frenetic,
curious,  foolhardy and,  let's face it,  manic-depressive:  we're  either
running around squeaking or slumped asleep.

     Liz's  obsession  is with hawks:  they share the same  attributes  of
being self-contained, specialised and, let's face it, lazy.

     Reptile keepers tend to be cold and only interested in their  animals
as  specimens.    Cat  lovers  tend  towards  hedonism.    Dog  owners  to
brusqueness  and business-like activity.   I don't think it's fanciful  to
read  more  into these similarities;  we seem to be attracted  to  animals
that  have  similar natures to our own,  in the same way that  we  attract
friends.



                BUDDY, CAN YOU SPARE A 386 WITH SUPER VGA?
                °∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙

     Regular readers of MicroMart will have noticed that more and more  of
its  free  adverts are the classified equivalent of  the  begging  letter.
The  type of advert that reads,  "Wanted:  Student needs 486 with all  the
trimmings.   Little money,  please help!" or,  "Disabled person needs very
cheap or free WP system - thank you!"  What do you make of them?   Do  you
believe  them?   Or do you think,  like me,  that one ad of this type  per
issue is believable; ten or twenty aren't.

     The content of these classifieds seems to go in cycles.   One  person
advertises  a "non-profitmaking PD library" one week,  and a  month  later
(it takes a while for them to filter through) you can't open the  magazine
without tripping over at least one philanthropist per page.   Perhaps  I'm
being  pessimistic,  but  I'd hate to see the goodwill  that  the  genuine
adverts rely on be abused by 'chancers'.



                           A DAY IN THE COUNTRY
                           ∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°°∙°∙°∙°∙

     It  all  started simply enough.   I'd volunteered to  write  a  piece
about our animals for a BR newsletter and,  as the article was pretty much
decided,  I just needed a few photos to illustrate it.   Liz and I  wanted
to  stress that our beasties were working animals,  so we thought we'd  go
out rabbiting and take a few photos of them at work.

     It was overcast and grey,  but at least it had stopped  raining.  Liz
got  Camilla the hawk ready while I fretted and fussed over which  ferrets
we'd  take.   Jack  was the first choice - our large sandy hob -  but  who
else?   Fitch  the polecat?   No,  they'd fight.   Lily?   She's  still  a
youngster,  but  then again she is Jack's daughter...  Lily it is -  let's
see what she makes of it.

     Off we go,  two ferrets in a carrying box and Camilla on her perch in
the back of the car.   "Squeeeerk!   Squeeeerk!  Squeeeerk!"  You get used
to it after a while,  and at least you know she's keen.   Liz had  checked
that  Camilla's the right weight (she musn't be too light or too heavy  or
she won't want to fly),  the ferrets have been fed,  we're in our  wellies
and waterproofs - the team's all ready.

     Half  an hour later we arrive at Richard's:   500 acres  of  unspoilt
scrub,  woods and grassland... heaven on earth.  "We'll try that warren in
the middle of the field."  So off we go, Liz with Camilla on the glove, me
carrying the ferret box, camera bag, beating stick... hmmm.

     Liz stands with Camilla about twenty feet away from the warren  while
I try and put the radio collar on Jack.   He doesn't want to know.  "C'mon
little one,  just hold still; I'm not going to hurt you."  Five minutes of
wriggling  and  squirming later,  the collar's around his  neck  and  I've
checked that we're getting a signal from it.

     And this is where the fun begins.   I hold the ferrets near a  rabbit
hole and they sniff it,  think about it,  and then nose their way into the
darkness.   I  move back about ten feet and wait.   And wait.   And  wait.
The ferrets are meant to scare the rabbits into bolting from their  holes,
then  Liz lets slip Camilla from the glove,  who flies at and catches  the
rabbit.   It's simple in theory, but there's so many things that might, or
might not happen.  At least I've had time to get the camera ready...

     Lily pops out of a hole,  I focus, then she's down again before I can
press the shutter.   Jack sticks his head out of another hole,  refocus...
click!   Lily appears out of another hole, and so it goes on.  I'm getting
plenty  of  good pictures,  but there sure as hell aren't any  rabbits  at
home.  Camilla's getting impatient, so decide to try somewhere else.

     Beat  the bushes.   No rabbits.   "Let's try the bank."  Two  hundred
yards of broken ground later and we're there.   It's a raised bank with  a
four  foot  drop  to a waterlogged ditch  on  either  side.   But  there's
definitely  rabbits there - it's a rabbit condominium by the look  of  the
holes and the droppings.   I check the collar again,  "ready",  loose  the
ferrets.   And  wait.   Lily dances out of a hole and scampers across  the
ground  -  not quite what we want,  but at least she's  enjoying  herself.
Back down a hole she goes.   And we wait.   "Mp! Mmmp, mm, mp!"  She's run
out  of another hole and is doing the weasel war dance.   I pick  her  up,
hold  her  near my face,  and say "barbeque!" very  clearly.   No  effect,
she's  too excited.   "Back in your box."  We haven't see Jack,  so  there
must be rabbits down there. We listen silently for the rustling, and wait.

     Fifteen  minutes  later and we're worried.   I turn  on  the  'ferret
finder' and start moving it over the surface - silence,  then  "pip!  pip!
pippippippip!"   I  adjust the sensitivity and read off  the  dial:   he's
three foot down and not moving.   At least we know where he is now.  So we
wait.  And  wait.   But  it's  getting  near dusk and  we'll  have  to  do
something very soon.   I take another reading, "same spot, three foot down
-  I  bet  he's backed one into a dead end."  A hurried  conference  -  no
pretence  now at being silent - and I'm dispatched back to the car to  get
the spade.

     We're both worried.   It's too near dusk for comfort, and he's either
killed down there and fallen asleep,  backed a rabbit into a dead end  or,
and  I don't even want to think about this but have to  consider  it,  the
roof's  fallen in and he's buried.   I check his position again and  start
digging a hole one foot to the side of where the signal is.   It's  mainly
leafmould  but  there's  some roots running through it  that  have  to  be
chopped  off.   I'm panting,  Liz is silent,  we know what can happen  and
we're  afraid.   The digging's got to be done very carefully,  and  you've
got  to keep checking with the 'ferret finder'.   "He's still  there."   I
carry  on  digging until I can take a sidways reading - "just  there!"   I
dig  sideways with the spade and then start scraping the earth  away  with
my hands.  The sweat's cold now.

     Through!   "C'mon  Jack!   C'mon lad!"  I'm lying on my side with  my
hand  down the hole and I can feel fur...   I take my hand away,  and  out
pops a sandy head that sniffs a couple of times,  and then ducks back into
the hole again.  I'm grinning like a maniac, Liz is laughing, and then all
hell breaks loose.   The rabbit that Jack had cornered has bolted into the
ditch  and  Liz has released Camilla.   I leap up and run  to  the  ditch.
Jack's come out just behind the rabbit.  Camilla's dived into a bush after
it,  and Liz is running hell-for-leather after Camilla.   Me?  I've fallen
into the ditch.   "Aaaagh!"  I'm up to my knees in mud,  and it stinks.  I
am *not* happy....

     Jack's about to vanish down another hole,  so I wrench myself out  of
the mud,  catch him just as he's vanishing, and haul us onto the bank with
my free hand.   Liz and Camilla are nowhere to be seen, so I sit there and
try  not  to  think  about  the  smell.    Liz  staggers  out  of  a  huge
rhodedendron  bush looking flushed.   Camilla's hanging from her fist  and
screaming  blue  murder  and they're both dripping  mud.   It  seems  that
Camilla  caught the rabbit in a pool of mud under the bush,   and Liz  has
has to drag the rabbit out with Camilla still attached to it.

     She  kills  the rabbit and lets Camilla have  it.   The  ferrets  are
asleep in their box,  I'm lying on the ground laughing,  and Liz joins in.
The team's complete.   We've got one rabbit,  two boots full of mud, and a
disgusting looking hawk.  It was a good day.



                             CUT, CLOSE, EXIT
                             ∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°∙°°∙°∙

     There's a lot more that I'd like to write about,  but there's  always
next time.  Take care, and live long.  You know it makes scents.



                              ~~~~~eof~~~~~