Hacker Chronicles 1/HACKER1.ISO/miscpub2/ati.31

Text File | 1992-09-26 | 13KB | 472 lines

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     Welcome to ATI31. You might think
our opening logo looks a little
different.   You're right.  We're just
 on a low budget this week.


 "Pray for the dead, but fight like
hell for the living"

   -"Mother Jones", union activist and
all-arond hell raiser.  Date unknown.


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$   "Misanthropic Thoughts in Jersey"
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$     -By Ground Zero (who else?)
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     1:20 PM, EST.  I'm sitting in the
employees' lounge, waiting to start my
shift at 1:30.  I tiredly rest my head
in my hands, elbows resting on the
table
cluttered with newspapers.  The 2
Jamaican men who work in the
supermarket's
parking lot returning carraiges are
sitting opposite me. They both just
quietly
smile at me, in silent comprehension
of my tired spirit.
     Her voice then penetrates other
background noises in the room and
grasps my
attention.  "Yeah, it's like, I get
home and he leaves to go to work. It's
hard", she says, in her loud Jersey
vernacular.  Her voice is biting, and
annoying, just as her words.
     "Yeah, he works as a police
officer.  And we never get to see each
other.
My husband loves his job, and
sometimes when he has the night off he
gets called
in!
     "And you know I get a maid to
come in sometimes.  But she doesn't
clean.
When I clean, I CLEAN", she says with
a neurotic toss of the head.  I recall
seeing the same toss of the head
delivered with the same words stated
by some of
my Italian relations.
     I shook my head in silent
contempt and looked at my two Jamaican
companions.  They shook their heads in
agreement.  I got up, went downstairs
and
punched in.
     The work day went by slowly, as
my thoughts preoccupied me. Thoughts
of my
troubles, my friends' troubles, and
what the future would bring. And all
the the
while, I catered to the suburban ego
looking for baked goods.
     Finally, it was 9:40. Time to
clean out the bins of unsold rolls.  A
lot
of rolls today.  I worked hurriedly to
take out the unsold rolls and throw
them
in garbage bags.  They would be thrown
away.  I thought of the many people who
went hungry each night, and the rolls
and donuts that would be thrown into
the
grabage compactor.  I conteplated the
illogic of waste, and the injustice of
a
human being going hungry as I tossed
the rolls into a garbage bag inside a
shopping cart next to me.
     Then, a sound grabbed my
attention.  An annoying, unpleasant
sound.  It
was the sound of gum snapping.  I
looked up and saw the "officer's wife"
at the
other end of the aisle.
     "Hey!!", she shouted between gum
snappings at a young man working behind
the deli counter.   "What are you
going to do?"
     She walked over to the deli
counter and leaned over it.  She was
several
years older than the young man she was
speaking to, and I thought her display
to
be rather distasteful.  As she talked
to him she leaned closer towards him.
Then, she pranced away, and after
advancing about 50 feet away from the
counter
shouted, "As they say, it's your
move", obviously straining her limited
intellect for the words.
     Another young man who worked in
the produce dept. walked up to her and
told
her he couln't go drinking with her,
as he had an early class the next day.
 I
simply shook my head, wheeling the
carraige full of rolls to be discarded
into
the corner.
     Quitting time.  I walked through
the employees' parking lot towards my
car.
Something then sped past me. It was a
brand-new IROC driven by one of my
fellow
employees, blasting a Bon Jovi song
through its open window.  The driver
shouted
something at a group congregated by
another car as she passed.
     Then, my loud-mouthed,
gum-snapping  friend drove past me
with the young
man from the deli in her passenger
seat.  She drove by in a brand-new
Cadillac
sedan.  Must be why she felt such a
dire need to work.  That's why she kept
complaining about not being able to
survive and a policeman's salary.
     "You don't own that car.  The car
and what it represents seem to own
you.
But I guess that's ok with you.  Then
again, I doubt that you could comprhend
this", I said quietly as I glanced at
the taillights of the Cadillac.
     I got into my car and drove onto
the main thouroughfare.
     10:20 PM.  Bored and restless, I
decided to go for a ride.
     I drove to a local suburban mall.
 The mall was closed, but I went to the
arcade that adjoined it.  As I parked
my car, I saw a group of the usual
"mall
rats" that were part of the mall's and
arcarde's usual decor.  The males of
the
group wore ragged jeans, concert
t-shirts, bandandas, and donned
leather or
denim jackets. The girls wore similar
garb, although many of them wore
spandex
tiger-striped pants, making them look
like refugees from the latest MTV
video by
Guns and Roses.
     I walked into the arcade and
played a few games on the one pinball
machine
I had acquired skill.  I became bored
quickly, and decided to take a short
walk
around the arcade before I moved on to
another equally fascinating sight.
     As I explored the arcade, I ran
into Joe, and old acquantence from the
arcade. "Hey Joe", I said as I walked
towards him.
     "Hi..Whatcha been up to?", he
asked, brushing back his curly black
hair.
     "Uh, not much.  Working in a
supermarket.  You working these
days?", I
inquired, already knowing the answer.
     "Nah.  Haven't for a while."
     "How old are you now?  25?"
     "Yeah, somewhere around there..",
said Joe.
     "You can't hang out forever."
     "I know.  But I want to while I
can."
     "You're a very intelligent,
attractive guy.  It's a waste for you
to just
hang around here", I said, knowing
that saying it wouldn't make a rat's
ass of
difference.
     "I know."
     "Hey, I gotta get home. Take
care, Joe", I said as I headed towards
the
exit.
     12:05 AM.  I grew weary, but my
restlessness urged me to drive on.  I
got
onto the highway, deciding I would
visit a friend in Bayonne who I knew
kept
late nights.
     As I drove towards Jersey City, I
passed several billboads advertising
various products, including newly
built condos in the area.
Gentrification.  I
knew those condos were making homes
for the Yuppies who found it more
eonomically feasible to live right
across the river from New York City.
And I
knew the condos used to be apartments
belonging to working class/poor
people.
But not anymore.  They were evicted to
make room for a more profitable venture
for the landlords.
     I drove past the main train
terminal in Jersey City and stopped
for a red
light.  I lowered my window and gazed
at the dozen or so homeless people
sleeping on the concrete floor outside
of the train station.  Two of the
transients were standing within
earshot by the street's edge.  One of
them asked
a woman passing by them for some
change.
     "Why don't you get a fucking
job", snarled the middle-aged woman in
a loud,
brash Jersey accent.  "Always looking
for a fucking handout, you people".
     The light changed.  As I drove
away, I wondered if it had occurred to
the
lower-middle class woman that she
could soon be in the same position as
the two
unfortunates she had coldly denied.
Doubtful.
     As I drove into Bayonne, I
noticed a police car following me.  It
stayed
behind me for about twenty blocks,
then pulled up next to me while I was
stopped
at a light.  The officer driving the
car glanced at me. I returned his
glance,
and the light changed.  He turned
around and drove away.  I was not
surprised,
as for some reason police officers
often enjoyed observing me.
     I continued on to my friend's
house, and noticed his car wasn't
outside.
He wasn't home.  I usually would call
to announce my visit beforehand, but
was
glad I hadn't tonight.  If I had
learned he wasn't home, I would have
driven
home early and in a more sullen mood
than I was in.
     I pulled my car over on one of
Bayonne's more busier streets and got
out of
the car to stetch out a bit. As I
stood outside the car, a car full of
the local
stock of Italian guys drove past me.
One of the many occupants of the car
mooned me as another shouted, "Hey,
baby!!".  I waved them off tiredly and
got
back in my car.
     I drove on the highway towards
home, passing the vast industrial
plants
that lined the highway.  The smoke
from the many buildings filled the
sky. I
sighed, and took a deep breath of the
toxic air.  My car drove onwards, onto
Newark's city streets.
     As my journey came to a close, I
passed by a New Jersey Bell central
office, where 2 months before I had
spotted a tall young man going though
papers
in the trash dumpster in the
buliding's parking lot.  The building
had since
became enclosed in a barbed wire
fence, with signs in Englsh and
Spanish saying,
"New Jersey Bell. Private Property.
No Trespassing".
     I laughed, and drove home..


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

     ...And here's 3 letters that can
make your day a little less happy:
FBI.
Some news on the FBI: It seems that
they plan to expand their database  to
include such things as credit card
transactions, telephone calls, and
airline
passenger lists.  Organizations such
as Coputer Professionals for Social
Responsibility are trying to stop this
from being implemented.  More on this
in
future issues.

     Remeber a small country in Cental
America called El Salvador?  Their
civil
war is far from over, and it looks as
though the leftist rebels are geting
closer to a military victory over the
US-gov't backed puppet government
currently in power.  Our
President-elect George Bush seems to
have 2 chioces in
this situation: either legitimately
deal with the leftists who may very
well win
over the country, or adopt an
escalation of the current US policy
towards El
Salvador: to adopt a policy of "total
war" again.
     Those of you who wish to gain a
better understanding of our
government's
policy towards Third World nations
like El Salvador, read up on it.  And
go to
your video store and rent a film
called "Salvador".  It's a fictional
movie
that's rather entertaining, and
enlightening.

and now......

 a few words from fah-q

 well it seems that i was driving here
in ct.the other night.

 i went past the subbase here in
groton the other night and as always i
yelled
fascist at the guards at the gate.the
guards got into their "rent a cop"car
and
followed me down the road with their
lights and siren on.once on the main
road
the groton town police joined the
paraide with their lights on too.i
didn't stop
and we drove to ledyard one town over
and a ledyard cop joined in.i turned
on to
a side street and stoped.the groton
and ledyard police got out and told
the base
cops never to use their lights in town.
  well the big day came and i went to
court.the judge read the charges to me
and
asked if i had anything to say i said
"oh yes i do....you can take that
ticket
and shove it so far your eyes buldge"
you know i can have your base privliges
taken away for that he said.well guess
what your nazi'ness sir..i have none
and
i was off your base when your nazi
goons grabed me i said.you meen to
tell me
you were off base when you were
stoped.we have no power off base and
securiety
should not be off base.i'll talk to
them.

   all n all it was a fun time for all
i think.

                  fah-q

  look for the NEW ati we will be
going to a new format.once a mounth
and only
to our host boards.we want to have 10
host's so if you want to host us drop a
line to the ati bro box.


 flashflashflashflashflashflashflash

  THERE IS A NEW HOST BOARD...

  THE PHOENIX PROJECT.

   THIS IS A REALY COOL AND HAPPINING
BOARD.THEY HAVE ALL THE BACK ISSUES AND
WERE THE FIRST TO GET THIS ISSUE!!!!!!

 SO GIVE THEM A CALL WHEN YOU BOARD
HOP TONIGHT!

   CALL THESE   AWE--FISH-Y'ALL ATI
HOST BOARDS:
 THE PHOENIX PROJECT  512-441-3088
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FEEDBACK FOR ACCESS.
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 CALL THIS ONE VOICE FOR MORE INFO


  WELL THAT'S IT FOR ATI ISSUE 31 LOOK
FOR US NEXT MONTH OR SOONER IF THE NEED
ARISES.



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