mike@ames.arpa (Mike Smithwick) (12/10/87)
[don't blame me, blame my psychiatryst!]
/* Ok guys, I apologize for the following, but I was swept over by
* these feelings of unrestrained silliness last night, and just had
* get it out of my system. Warning, parody follows */
The lights dim, the curtains part, there is an anticipitory hush
sweeping over the audience.
[cue announcer, cue Dramatic John Williams Theme]
Announcer : Ladeeeez, and Gentlemen, 200 million years ago, life as we
know it crawled from the slime pits onto dry land. 2 million years
ago, man as we know him (or her) evolved from the lowly ape
(except for GEM programmers who evolved from some form of kiwi fruit).
And, it was only a mere 2 1/2 years ago that man (except for GEM
programmers) finally became civilized with the introduction of
(drum roll)>>>the AMIGA<<<!
[thunderous applause, wild cheering, hats thrown in the air]
The computer, so far ahead of it's time that calenders are still
unable to catch up!
Yes we've witnessed the saga as this hearty band of amigazoids
braved the murderous ridicule as they pawned off the "Joyboard"
as a serious product, only to be quietly trying to change the
future.
***
Husband : Honey, I'm home (hangs up hat, puts down briefcase, doffs
coat)
Wife : (slim attractive blond, wearing pearls, carrying feather duster
in one hand) Hi dear, dinner will be ready in 1/2 hour. Why don't
you read the newspaper, and put on your slippers. Oh, by the way,
how was work?
Husband : Oh, you know, another Joyboard, another dollar.
Wife : Dear, when are you going to make something of yourself, and get a
Real Job?
Husband : (can't say anything for fear of contract violations)
Wife : No one will play with the kids at school, the dog sits around
and pouts all day, the neighbors laugh as they go by, and the church
sent back our offering from last week. Why didn't you take that
vice-presidents job at that IBM place?
***
Announcer : Yet through it all, somehow these brave warriors persevered,
the True Believers fighting for Truth, Justice, and the Miner way!
And then, on that hot muggy day in New York, Andy Warhol grabbed
a mouse, and said "neat", and the rest, as they say, is history.
Word streaked across the nation, faster than you can say :
"BltMaskBitMapRastPort()"
Demonstrations of the unique capabilities of the
Amiga are being presented here at Siggraph on the
two screens before you.
On Thursday, July 25th, Amiga's senior technical
personnel will be available in the booth to answer
your questions regarding the Amiga-PC.
(actual Quote from the chintzy SIGGRAPH '85 handout)
Grown men wept for joy, children clutched their mothers legs. On
distant shores, soldiers layed down their weapons, the Berlin Wall
inexplicably crumbled, nuclear missles vanished from their silos,
and the Giants won the World Series. A congressman refused a bribe,
lions laid down with lambs, and all TV Game show hosts were rounded
up and beaten senseless.
Nirvanna had arrived.
[deep forboding music]
But predictably, the forces of evil and bad advertising regrouped, and
all was not well in Amigaland, and the news broke : "layoffs".
We can all remember where we were on "Black Wednesday". Schools
and bars closed early, couples turned the lights low, clutching
each other to comfort themselves. Suicide hot-lines ran with double
shifts and the earth slowed down in it's orbit just a bit.
And people said "where the hell is 'Amiga-Live'?".
The Amigazond ranks dwindled ever so slowly, as one-by-one they had
to get Real Jobs.
And finally, in March, 1987, Amiga Los Gatos, signed off of "The Net"
for the last time. Evil had, as it seemed, triumphed.
Or had it.
[lighter upbeat somewhat stupid sounding music]
But then the terms "A500" and "A2000" circulated among the ranks
and the sleeping giant gradually opened one eye. A new day was
dawning.
Birds were singing, Commodore was making money, computers were
delivered only 3 months late!
[pause for gasp]
Television ads were purchased, and the news broke! Los Gatos would
reopen!
Thus we present -
--------------------------------
AMIGA : The Next Generation
--------------------------------
Thrill to the intergalactic exploits of Captain Dale skillfully guiding
the StarChip Enterboing(); thru countless earth saving adventures,
making the world safe to meet girls.
***
[cut to sleek, sterile bridge, with lotz of pseudo-mystical vapor flowing
around the floor. Colored monitors circle the walls, displaying spreadsheets,
astronomy programs, and extruded tumbling logos]
Kodiak : Sir, enemy TOSFighters at 3-o'clock!
Dale : Damn that Darth Tramiel!
Ensign Jim : I understand those uncivilized barbarians don't even have
submenus.
Science officer Dave : Warning, their blitters have been enabled. Funny,
I don't seem to notice any difference.
Dale : Me neither. Arm the underscore torpedos, fire one. . ., fire two. . .
Dave : Their crashing sir, those cute little "bombs" are appearing
everywhere
***
Announcer : Your spine will tingle as the Enterboing soars into the
unknown meeting mediocrity at every turn.
***
Jim : Captain, up ahead, look at that giant IBM!
Dale : (leaning forward thoughtfully) That's no IBM, that's a Mac II
it just looks like an IBM ensign, don't they ever teach you guys anything
in MouseFleet Academy?
Counselor : Sir, I feel this, this great pain. . .
Dale : Either your underwear is too tight again or the Mac is trying to
mulit-task.
[beep, beep, beep, and beep]
Dave : Sir! MultiFinder has just been activated. . .
Dale : Standby! Well show them. . . AddTask()!!!
Dave : Task added.
Dale : Again! Bring up a clock, notepad, and, oh how I hate to do this, a
spreadsheet.
Dave : Done sir.
Dale : Play a song! Print a letter! Show little sparkling thingies on the
workbench screen!
Jim : He's fleeing sir, Ha ha ha, what a coward. Nice monitor though.
***
Announcer : Your ears will go numb when finally our heros encounter. . .
***
Dave : There she is sir (in a hushed whisper)
Dale : Feast your eyes on that guys as there's no greater hive of scum and
villany in the known universe.
Jim : Sir, I'm scared.
Dale : I don't blame you, no one has successfully battled (ta dum) BIG BLUE.
(emotion sensors automatically dim the bridge lights and illuminate the
captains face with a dramatic lateral beam)
[a fuzzy picture appears on the screen. The captain of Big Blue stands in the
center wearing a handsome 3 piece suit, his crew in the background in their
freshly starched shirts, one of them straightens his tie, another
blowdrys his hair]
Dave : (Whispers) Fascinating, they look exactly alike. . .
BB Captain : Enterboing, this is Commendante Watson, you have invaded the
"Office Zone", this is certainly no place for a mere Game Machine.
Go back to the "hacker zone" where you belong, Ha ha ha ha . . .
If not, we shall be forced to take action, Real Soon Now!
[picture fades]
Jim : Ha! What can they do.
Dave : Captian, they're firing TV ads at us, lots of them starring washed
up comic actors.
Dale : Playing rough are they? Eh? Take evasive acti. . .
[But before the Captain can finish an ad hits, the lights flicker
and the movie camera tilts, everyone leans in their chairs. Sparklers
behind the screens ignite and the Science officer jumps away from his post]
Jim : Kodiak, he's injured help him!
Kodiak : Dammit Jim, I'm a hacker not a. . .
[One by one Kickstart hands pop up on the monitors as systems begin to fail]
Kodiak : Bummer, all the way back to Kickstart, and those are 500s!
Dale : Activate, "The Shield"
Jim : No! Not "The Shield"!
Dale : Do as I say ensign. . .
[Thousands of old Amiga Testflight videos are hurled towards the oncoming
rush of TV spots deflecting them left and right]
Kodiak : It's working sir. . .
Dave : BPTRs at 9 o'clock, 12 o'clock eastern time.
Dale : Damn, they know our weakness. Activate the hacker gun, and we'll
work around it.
Dave : That does it sir, that quieted them. You're a genius. . .
Dale : I know. Boarding party to the transporter room, we're going aboard and
see what we're really up against.
[crew materialzes in an empty, dark space, breifcases lie scattered around
as if the Big Blue crew made a hurried escape down the micro-channel]
Jim : Captian, it's empty and dark, just like the announcer said.
Dale : What do you expect for a computer without an operating system.
Jim : Over there, in the shadows, look, that dwarf. . .
Dale : . . .MS-DOS, leave him alone, he's harmless . . .
***
Announcer : And so, recognizing the right of all operating systems to
live and die on their own merits, the crew of StarChip Enterboing
leaves the "Office Zone" to soar back to their own Universe
were computers don't grovel on their masters's desks crunching
boring spreadsheets, but instead may be found in artist studios
designing stained-glass windows, or helping the handicapped communicate,
making music, adding graphics to recently cancelled TV shows, and
doing alot of other >>>Neat Stuff<<<.
[America the Beautiful fades in to the background]
Yes, this is a universe where computers can be computers, and programmers
should be worshipped (and wear capes if they want to) and where the
sun shines just a little brighter each day.
***
[parting shot of Enterboing disappearing among the stars. Camera pans slowly
across the sky]
Dave : Sir, up ahead, dangling pointers
Dale : Oh oh, The Smithwick Affect, mount VD0:, load memwatch, and we
should make it through
Dave : You're genius sir
Dale : I know. . .
***
[up suitably inspirational music, roll credits]
*************************************************************************
To the guys back at Amiga - Amaze us again!
*************************************************************************
High Voice : Hey anybody seen my new cape?
Dale : How did he get in here?
Voice : Recumbent StarChips, the only way to fly
/*
there, that feels much better, I promise that this won't ever
happen again. Isn't that right captain?
*/
--
*** mike (powered by M&Ms) smithwick ***
"if it wasn't for venitian blinds,
it would be curtains for all of us!"
[discalimer : nope, I don't work for NASA, I take full blame for my ideas]ewhac@well.UUCP (Leo 'Bols Ewhac' Schwab) (12/11/87)
In article <3612@ames.arpa> mike@ames.UUCP (Mike Smithwick) writes: >[don't blame me, blame my psychiatryst!] > On the contrary: I compliment you AND your psychiatrist. Absolutely hilarious! I loved it! >High Voice : Hey anybody seen my new cape? > <My voice isn't *that* high.....> _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_ Leo L. Schwab -- The Guy in The Cape ihnp4!ptsfa -\ \_ -_ Recumbent Bikes: dual ---> !{well,unicom}!ewhac O----^o The Only Way To Fly. hplabs / (pronounced "AE-wack") "Work FOR? I don't work FOR anybody! I'm just having fun." -- The Doctor
phil@titan.rice.edu (William LeFebvre) (12/16/87)
Mike Smithwick writes: > there, that feels much better, I promise that this won't ever > happen again. Isn't that right captain? But it was so funny! We need stuff like that every now and then to break up the monotony of Amiga vs ST wars, virtual memory battles, Commodore flames, and other unpleasant frothing-at-the-mouth messages. I laughed all the way to bed last night! --- Still waiting to win the state lottery so I can buy software and hardware for my 2000...........but Texas doesn't HAVE a state lottery! Darn! William LeFebvre Department of Computer Science Rice University <phil@Rice.edu>