Inky Black: Welcome to Earth.
The Futurian: Welcome to Earth yourself, I live here too you know.
Inky Black: Oh, That's right... Where are you from?
The Futurian: Albany, New York.
Inky Black: Oops, I mean in time.
The Futurian: From the year 2020
Inky Black: 2020? That's only twenty years from now.
The Futurian: Actually it's a couple thousand years from now. Computers got things so screwed up back in the year 2000 A.D. that we started over again.
Inky Black: What is most different about life in your time?
The Futurian: I live in Albany, so it really isn't much different.
Inky Black: What do you do when you go back in time?
The Futurian: We bring cameras and recording equipment to great historical events, then we sell the film to "Galaxy's Funniest Videos."
Inky Black: What are the best ones so far?
The Futurian: Barnum and Bailey in Mesopotamia. We shipped the whole circus back in time and set up a performance in ancient Babylon. The place went crazy. The circus folk really brought down the house. Gods, myths, legend, they all came from that show.
Inky Black: You changed history! You can't do that or everything goes haywire.
The Futurian: That's an old wives tale. You can change history but it doesn't matter. Recall that we live in a quantum universe, where a particle can exist in two or more states at the same time. It's the same with history but it makes it harder to read.
Inky Black: So everything that has happened may not have happened; or may have occurred in many different ways. How come we have only one history?
The Futurian: Catholic School.
Inky Black: If I asked what happens in the future? You would say...
The Futurian: ...Everything.
Inky Black: So even if I know the future I still can't predict it.
The Futurian: Yes, that is what separates tomorrow from yesterday.
Inky Black: We have a future that can't be predicted and a past that is changeable. What good is it to have a time machine?
The Futurian: We pull in a pretty good buck from the Home Videos.
Every week we get together and realize that we don't know what in hell we're doing. So we print anything. We'll, we're sitting here drunk and haven't written any dumb stuff in awhile(since yesterday's paper anyway.) so here goes. We could author some platitudes about time travel... in fact we will. But we can wait until tomorrow for that and submit the stuff yesterday. Today we'll let you know who we are and how to e-mail us. Then we will apologize for losing e-mail. So here goes, starting with our usual reminder. "This is based on incidents that never happened; and people, living or dead, may be fictitious."
"The Nervous Nineties", published weakly by Asteroid Tabloid, is written with the time-honored techniques of yesterday; we make up stories, then interview each other. We do not use strange people with fake names as sources(...anymore).
Nervous Nineties, copyright © 1997 and Lithium City Tattler ® is the way we write our name so we look important. This newspaper is published electronically so it can't be used in birdcages or third-world countries.
Now you have now reached the place where we say thanks to you for sitting there and spending some time with us. If you are with a friend you can pat each other on the back; unless they are lying on the floor.
We are happy you stopped by, even though, right now, we are in a little blues joint called the Amsterdam in Johnson City, and have completely forgotten what point we were trying to make with this sentance.
Anyway we love to hear from people with news of the outside world and from those who can help us figure out what it is we are doing. If you would like to join our little three-ring lifestyle please use the password---"three stooges of the internet." Let us know that you would like to get the newsletter, chat it up, or lend us money.
Click here for info;
place "Hey Jeff, Check Your Mail!" in the subject block...
RatsRebyc@aol.com
copyright jeff rose © 1998 binghamton, ny
Please BookMark this page if your memory is as bad as ours.
rather than flat-out admit to Mo that we lost her e-mail before we read it, here's the true story of how it probably never got here anyway. You see, uh, not only do we have plenty of technical problems with the fancy-pants computer equipment, but we have trouble finding our office in the first place. however, we do supply this letter of warm and comfortable words so as to give you a sense of confidence and success with our e-mail communications; before all hell breaks out. for you folks other than Mo, please allow this pack of lies to cover our many lapses... viz.
our problems using e-mail remind us of a little story, aw, here it is...
"you see, it used to be that a short stroll down to see Monty at the Locust Bar and Grill would get you a good update on what's new, and who's doin' what to whom... and maybe when you got home there was a note on the door.
but today... it's welcome to the nervous nineties. today you've got newspaper, radio, television, telephone, answer phone, beeper phone, cellular phone, satellite phone, internet phone, e-mail, snail mail, junk mail, and voice-synthesized auto-dialing computer programs which you think are real people until you ask her if she's single. hell, we've got people walking down the street with post-it notes stuck to their forehead... and that's what happened to our quality leader.
the first hint came when Monty at the Locust Bar started getting job offers from the CEO of a major american firm. next, our computer users started using slang such as "technojive" and "re-bootiful". then our new departmental slogan was announced at work. a large banner was draped over the main entrance proclaiming "intimacy is productivity!"
we caught on... and if you haven't guessed, here it is. yes... our quality leader, while working closely with his intimate mistress, oops, i mean his administrative assistant. well... he managed to mix-up all the post-it notes during a lengthy pro-active and horizontally integrated session of small-group dynamics. and all of our e-mail addresses, they were written on those little post-it notes, well, they got them a little confused. like all mixed up.
yes, the addresses got a little screwed up... but it's okay. the CEO has been communicating with Monty instead of our boss. all of our private mail has been going to our company automated computer tips web page. and our boss still thinks that the CEO writes what are really love notes from the intimate assistant. it is these notes that have resulted in the strange team concepts recently announced at work. the latest is: "we don't just make it better, we make it!"
so, Monty is going to take the job. if you need to write, Monty's new address is bigwig@beachcondo.pub. the boss is now lovedog@sticky.sex. and the administrative mistress has been promoted to vice president of love...(vice@love.den).
...and your mail, automatically posted to the computer tips page every day, has received an award for company web-site of the month. keep those cards and letters coming in.
sincerely,
your talented and vigilant crew
P.S. if you need to contact us, try our web address:
http:\\:www.desultory.lower.phlogiston.pit@UK.Pub~tilde~c:\dos\norwegian
place this address on a self-addressed stamped envelope and mail using Federal Express overnight delivery. add a sticky-note to the Fedex mailer that says "Monty, this might be important, don't leave it at the Locust Bar and Grill."
Flat-Out True Real-Life Travel Stories, We're back and boy is the rest of the world happy about that... and other stories.
Around the world the Hard Way? Sail with on the great voyage from Lisbon and you'll find that it's not Magellan but some Filipino guy named Henrique who turns out to be the first to sail around the world.
...and we update sort of often maybe so Bookmark this page for when the next stories arrive. ...and head for the Continuing Saga if you need to add some stuff or sign the guestbook.
copyright JLRose© 1998, 2002, 2525 Binghamton, NY
december, 1998